Early Enough
by evening spirit
Summary: Can a pebble thrown into a river change the course of the great mass of water? Can one decision alter the almighty Fate? After Skye gets shot by Ian Quinn, Grant Ward has to make a choice. Will it change his life and the lives of those around him? Even if it will - it cannot possibly be easy. Season 1B AU, diverging from TRACKS. Pre-relationship SkyeWard in later chapters COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1

**Summary: **What if the events of T.R.A.C.K.S. played out a little differently? A Grant Ward story.

What if Coulson's team got to Quinn's mansion a little earlier? And a few other differences, like the layout of the basement of the mansion. That's irrelevant. What matters is that Grant Ward is given a choice at a moment when he is capable of making one.

* * *

**Early Enough  
****Chapter One**

* * *

_"There are no wrong turnings. Only paths we had not known we were meant to walk."  
_**~ Guy Gavriel Kay, _Tigana_**

* * *

"May, you go 'round back. Ward, through the basement. I take the front entrance," Coulson issued his orders. "FitzSimmons, you stay put, hear me?"

The science duo nodded.

May was already trotting around the building and Ward hurried down to the door Coulson pointed. Focus. He needed to focus.

If the job was easy it wouldn't be any fun, he kept repeating, like a mantra. Those jobs where Coulson's team crossed paths with Centipede were especially not-easy, though. Ward wished Garrett had at least given him some hints about what he intended to do, what his plan was. He wouldn't be going in completely blind.

"Integrate," Garrett had said when they'd last spoken, two weeks ago. Coulson had been recovering from his kidnapping. Garrett had been pissed that the elaborate plot to squeeze information out of him brought no results whatsoever. Coulson hadn't remembered anything about his resurrection. But then Garrett had said he had a new plan. A better plan. "You stay with them," he had ordered. "Be Coulson's good soldier boy. That's all I need from you."

So Grant tried to play for Coulson's team. It wasn't without a hitch. After he'd sneaked out yesterday, to get to one of Garrett's drop-boxes and leave a message about Coulson being on trail of some Cybertek / Quinn transaction, May had intercepted him in the cargo-bay. He had joked about being restless before an op, it being undercover and all and she had bought it, albeit reluctantly. Then she'd asked him if he'd worked undercover a lot and he'd almost laughed at the irony of it. He had told her the truth about Warsaw, five years ago. Stay as close to the truth as you dare – was one of rules of deep cover job. Then you'll never mix up irrelevant details. Be as much yourself as you can be.

And believe in your cover.

Grant believed. On the train he had fought the mercenaries hired by Cybertek – had fought against Garrett. He had tried to warn Coulson, had sincerely promised Simmons that he would be back for her and Fitz and Skye. He'd felt enraged that May had been abused. But he had also been anxious about May confiding in Coulson on their affair and later about her allowing the boss to patch her up. Their easy camaraderie was worrisome. May trusted Coulson without hesitation and he believed in her, would do anything to protect her, even if she didn't need protection. If push came to shove, whatever Ward had tried to build with May through their non-relationship, wouldn't mean a thing to her.

He caught himself dropping out of character. He was analyzing things too much, worried too much. It was understandable – he didn't want to jeopardize Garrett's plans. His orders were clear though. Stay undercover. Stay with the team. Garrett knew what he was doing. He needed Ward to trust him. And Ward trusted him infinitely. More than May trusted Coulson. He inhaled a lungful of air and exhaled slowly, to get himself back in the game.

In order to fulfill his mentor's orders now, he needed to follow Coulson's orders like the good soldier that he was. He quietly opened the door and entered the low-ceilinged corridor. He had to squat a little but he moved ahead without a problem. The corridor was murky, with only a little light coming from up ahead. After a few more steps Ward neared an L-section with a staircase and noticed half-open wooden door in the corner opposite from the stairs.

He heard voices.

"If I wanted you to..." male voice spoke and hesitated. "To hurt her. You know, kill... Will you?" Ward knew that voice but he couldn't quite place it. Who was this man? Who was he talking to? And who was he talking about? "I mean, what would hurt Coulson more than to lose his pet project?"

"Those aren't my orders," responded another male voice and Ward's mind conjured an image of Mike Peterson. But Peterson was dead, wasn't he? "She's not who I'm supposed to kill." The man finished and Ward heard the sound of heavy steps and some hydraulics.

He plastered himself against the wall in the shadow next to the door. Clad in black, he hoped whoever that was, wouldn't notice him.

He was lucky. The man – it was Mike Peterson – was so absorbed with whatever goal he had, that he stormed past him and up the staircase so quick, Ward only fleetingly noticed the metallic leg and burned skin.

Then he heard Skye's voice yelling, "Wait!" and "What the hell did you do to him?" And a gunshot.

He reacted quicker than he could think.

He pushed the door fully open, located the gun first, then saw it held by a man and recognized this man as Ian Quinn. Quinn was the enemy. His gun was a direct threat to his ally, Skye. Quinn needed to be neutralized. Ward fired straight into the man's heart, then bettered with an immediate shot to the head.

The observe-orient-decide-act loop took him less than a heartbeat and his heart was beating really fast now.

"Skye?" He was at her side in the next instant and saw her clutching her stomach.

"He shot me," she whispered disbelievingly and glanced up at him. "It doesn't hurt, you know."

"No, it doesn't." Ward knew the pain took a while to register.

"But I feel weak," Skye added.

"Yeah, you do." He supported her and listened as the commotion erupted upstairs. He should be there, helping Coulson and May. But he couldn't leave Skye either.

Another quick decision and he lifted her in his arm, gently, because she hissed, and ran back down the corridor and outside. Put her on her feet for a moment, before opening the door a crack. Then wider. There was no one in vicinity. He picked her up again and crossed the few steps of open space between the building and the car where Fitz and Simmons were hiding.

"Take care of her," he ordered and was on the move right away.

This time he ran for the main entrance. In the corner of his eye he saw Mike Peterson jump out of the window at the side of the building and head for the thujas. When he got inside, Coulson and May were standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by dead bodies.

"You weren't fooling around," he noted, wide eyed.

"It wasn't all us." Coulson shrugged, even more astounded than Ward. "It was Mike Peterson. But he was... weird."

"I saw him. We'll talk about it later. Right now we gotta move. Skye has been shot and it would be best if we got her somewhere safe."

"Shot? By..." Coulson paled and glanced toward the broken window.

Ward shook his head. "Ian Quinn," he explained and added, "He's dead."

In the end Coulson ordered Ward and May to stay behind and secure as much evidence as they could before the scene processing unit of SHIELD arrived. He, along with Fitz and Simmons hurried to get Skye back onto the plane. When the SHIELD people got there, along came the message that Coulson was taking Skye on the Bus to a clinic in Zurich.

"Simmons is optimistic," May told Grant, as she hung up. "Skye's gonna be fine, but she needs a better medical care than what can be provided on a Mobile Command Station. We're gonna have to find our own way to Switzerland."

"We'll do," Ward responded, feeling as if a heavy burden lifted from his chest. He didn't even realize how much he worried about his rookie. She was so full of life, it was hard to imagine her on the brink of death.

* * *

Grant and May arrived at the clinic in Zurich seven hours later. It was night already but Coulson, Fitz and Simmons were up, waiting for news form the doctor.

"She was out of the surgery half an hour ago," Simmons told them as they sat in the waiting area. "All was fine, the bullet didn't perforate her entrails or stomach. It went clean through her liver and liver regenerates. It will take a while but it will heal. Then it lodged in the muscle right above her right kidney. All in all, Skye was extremely lucky."

"She was even more lucky that you were there," added Fitz, handing Ward a cup of hot black coffee. "One sugar, just the way you like it." He smiled with pride.

"You did a great job there, Ward." Coulson was smiling too. They were all surrounding him like he was their greatest hero and Ward felt as close to happiness as he dared.

He wasn't happy because they appreciated him, of course. He didn't care if they praised his actions, his valor and nerve. He wasn't even happy that Skye, his protégé, his bubbly rookie, would be back to her bubbly self within a couple of weeks. Well, maybe a little, he cared. He was supposed to care after all, a little bit, he was supposed to be one of them. He was one of them – and that's why he was happy, because months of his undercover job were finally beginning to pay off. He was even able to smile at Fitz and not get all tense at his affectionate back-rubbing. Strange, because he didn't feel too crowded either, when Simmons sat on the arm of the chair he occupied and talked about how she had tried to stop the bleeding and how terrified she had been, how she'd thought Skye'd been going to die, she had been so pale and faint and lifeless. But everything ended well, and here she was, Jemma Simmons, gesticulating and laughing and she wouldn't be able to sleep tonight. Would they? – next to him. And it felt alright.

"We're most likely gonna stay here all night," Coulson agreed. "The doctor should allow us to see Skye any moment."

It took a little longer, nearly half an hour more but they were finally allowed to go into her room, one by one, two minutes each, the others watching through a huge window from the corridor outside. She was asleep of course, but it was a relief to touch her warm skin, to feel her pulse under his fingers. He saved her. He kept his promise to her – to train her and to make sure she didn't end up dead before she learned to protect herself.

In the morning Garrett arrived.

"I spoke to him on the phone," Coulson explained to Ward as Garrett strolled toward them down the corridor. "Didn't tell you, because you were dozing off at the moment. Should have later but it slipped my mind, I'm sorry. Anyway, I hope it's a nice surprise." Coulson's smile was genuine. Garrett's wasn't. "Your former SO is going to help us track down Cybertek. He took over the investigation at Quinn's mansion."

Of course. Clever. Ward nodded with appreciation and only a hint of dread. Garrett was pissed with him, he could feel it in his bones. He screwed up, somehow, and there would be consequences.

"Heard your girl was shot. How is she?" Garrett shook Coulson's hand. He didn't even look at Ward.

"She's gonna be alright," Coulson beamed. "Quinn wasn't the best shot, obviously. Don't know why he wanted to kill her. Maybe she reminded him of his previous failure with the Gravitonium. Either way, he's not a threat anymore. Cybertek and Clairvoyant are. We need to find them, John."

"I'll do my best." If they only knew. If Coulson only knew who he was talking to. Garrett had it all mapped out and Ward couldn't stop feeling awe and pride for his mentor. "Can I speak with Ward for a minute?" Garrett asked in a voice that may have sounded friendly to someone unfamiliar with his ways, but it froze blood in Ward's veins. Awe and pride evaporated, replaced by a hollow cold feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"Sure." Coulson nodded, patted Garrett's arm and walked away.

Garrett waited a few heartbeats, before he turned to his protege, let their eyes meet. When he deemed Coulson was far enough, he closed the distance between himself and Ward and affectionately put his arm around Ward's shoulders. Ward felt like he was on fire but he knew not to flinch. He made his lips form a smile instead. He heard Garrett's voice over the roar of blood in his ears.

"Was it you who shoot Quinn?"

"Yes."

"What the hell were you thinking?"

"I was following your orders. You told me to play Coulson's soldier," Ward replied automatically and only then thought that putting the blame on his mentor wasn't the best course of action.

"Shut up." Garrett looked around, making sure no one overheard. Ward hadn't noticed when he'd led them around the corner into an empty corridor. He kept on walking, pushing Ward with him. "You're such a failure, sometimes I wonder why I even bother."

"I'm sorry." Now Grant realized what that feeling in the pit of his stomach was. It was fear. He tried to explain, to apologize. "I know he was your associate. I should have remembered. But he was threatening Skye and I was supposed to be their protector..."

"Skye? You thought she was more important?" Garrett stopped, stepped away, his arm falling to his side. He glared at Ward with such disgust and hatred, Ward felt like the ultimate disappointment that he had always been.

"I was following your orders," he whimpered, like it could be an excuse.

"Were you?"

"To integrate with the team." Wrong and wrong again.

"I have a new order then."

Grant braved a look up at Garrett's face. If Garrett was going to trust him with more directions, then maybe there was hope for him yet. He waited and watched a predatory smile emerge on Garrett's face.

"You'll have to mess her up some more," he announced.

Ward didn't understand.

"Her- who?"

"Who, who? Are you really so dumb? Or maybe you care about her so much? Do you care about her?" Garrett furrowed his brows. "Is she a weakness?"

Ward's heart sped up again. "No," he breathed out, even though he still had no idea what Garrett was talking about. May? He didn't feel anything for May. Simmons? Skye? "Skye?" he whispered.

"Who else?" Garrett mocked. "She's Coulson's little pet project." Those were the words Quinn had used. "He'd do anything to save her. Just remember not to kill her. She has to be beyond what's humanly possible to fix. That's a very thin line, Ward. Can you do that?"

Grant nodded. Of course he could. He knew enough about human body to inflict the exact level of pain to be beyond bearable but still survivable. He knew where to hit to kill instantly. And where to hit to make death longest and the most painful.

"I can do that," he said.

Garrett nodded and smiled, this time with delight.

"I knew I could count on you." He squeezed Ward's arm affectionately. "Remember. My life and my health are in your hands."

* * *

t.b.c.


	2. Chapter 2

**Early Enough  
****Chapter Two**

* * *

_"If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading"_  
**~ Gautama Buddha**

* * *

Fitz went back to the bus but Jemma didn't think she would be able to fall asleep tonight, even though she was bone tired. Maybe later. Maybe in a few days, when the dust settled. Right now she still needed to know Skye's status at all times. She could still feel Skye's blood on her hands.

May and Coulson sat in the waiting area, talking quietly and May looked almost vulnerable. Although... the words "May" and "vulnerable" in one sentence didn't quite compute. Jemma didn't want to intrude so she stood up and walked down the corridor, to Skye's room.

She found Ward standing there, outside the window, arms folded on his chest, staring at his rookie. Jemma let out a quiet sigh as she thought that he had saved Skye's life. If he hadn't been there, if he had been even a minute later, it might all look entirely different. Skye would be dead, they would have lost her and, even though they hadn't known each other all that long, Jemma couldn't imagine losing this newly found friend. Hell, she couldn't imagine losing any of them, Coulson, May or Ward.

He looked so desolate, standing there, like all his world was falling to pieces. Or maybe Jemma herself felt that way, exhausted and restless? She needed some consolation. She thought Ward needed it too.

He didn't seem to notice as she approached. Jemma extended her hand in an attempt to reassure him, started saying some nonsensical words like "She's gonna be okay", but only managed a "she" when her fingers connected with his bicep in the slightest of touches and he spun to her, palms curled in fists, ready to strike.

She jumped back.

He froze mid-move.

Blinked a few times, struggling to recognize her.

"I'm... sorry," Jemma stuttered. "Didn't mean to frighten you."

Ward relaxed. Not much, just a notch. He wiped his face, then ruffled his hair, holding his head with both hands. Walked away a few paces, then returned. Looked at Skye again.

"She's gonna be okay, you know," Jemma, dumbfounded, finished her earlier thought.

"No, she's not," Ward replied immediately and in a voice so low, Jemma wasn't sure if she heard him right.

"Yes," she hurried. "Yes, she is. She's better already, her vitals are stable and she's only sleeping there, see? You may go in." Jemma thought that maybe he needed this reassurance, needed to feel for himself that Skye was alive, real. He kept shaking his head, his eyes glued to Skye's prone form. "You should go inside," Jemma insisted. "You may sit there, I'm sure the nurses wouldn't mind. Hold her hand. You know that human touch..." she hesitated, remembering how he jumped just now, when she touched him. She hadn't paid much attention to it before, but he had always kept his distance and Fitz's displays of affection had made him somewhat uncomfortable. "Human touch is a miracle drug, really," she finished gently, her hand hovering an inch away from his arm. Her instinct was telling her to connect, stroke, maybe even hold him, but she decided it wasn't the best idea. Instead she kept on prattling. "Research on comatose patients shows that even holding their hand leads to more stable body temperature, stronger vital signs and better tolerance of pain. It may have something to do with the polarization of skin, or exchanging the molecules. A kind of biochemical connection-"

"It's Buddy all over again," Ward cut in as if he didn't hear a word she said, lost in his own thoughts.

Buddy, who? Jemma stood silent for a good few seconds, before she blurted, "She will live," because nothing else came to her mind.

Ward shook his head.

"Not if I-" his voice broke, a sob hitched in his chest. Then he squared his shoulders as if readying himself to jump out of a flying plane without a parachute and he breathed out, "Get Coulson here." His eyes were wide and he was hyperventilating.

"Coulson?" Jemma needed a confirmation, being somewhat alarmed by his uncharacteristic behavior and all.

"Shhh." He spun and put his hand on her mouth so fast she didn't even have the time to blink. His frantic eyes scanned the corridor, then he cast a quick glance behind his back and faced her again. "Don't," he whispered with chilling urgency. "Don't let anyone know, you hear me? Don't speak up. No one may know, only Coulson. Get him here as soon as you can, but you can't talk to anyone. Don't tell him it was me, either. Just... Just get him here. Quietly. Please." He released her.

Jemma nodded. She didn't move for a good while though. She didn't understand and she wanted to understand. What happened? What the hell was Ward talking about? Was Skye in danger?

Did someone still want to hurt Skye?

That thought finally forced her to break out of stupor. She would get answers later. Now the most important thing was to ensure Skye's safety. Coulson was the best person to provide security. Jemma walked back to the waiting area as fast as she could, trying not to look as if she was in a hurry at the same time and knowing she was failing on both accounts.

Coulson wasn't there. Only May.

"What happened?" The observant specialist narrowed her eyes at Jemma.

"Oh, nothing." The lie wasn't convincing at all. "I'm looking for Coulson."

May stood up, her gaze scrutinizing, dissecting and Jemma knew she stood no chance.

"It's Ward," she revealed. "He's outside Skye's room and he's acting... not right. He asked for Coulson to come and to not tell anyone, he was very adamant at me not telling anyone. And I just did. But I can trust you, can't I? Please don't tell him that I told you. Oh my God, I am not making any sense."

"Coulson went down to the cafeteria," May replied simply. "Go get him and I..." she cast a glance in a general direction of Skye's room. "I'll happen to wander near Skye's room. Inconspicuously."

* * *

Ward was indeed standing right outside Skye's room, leaning on the glass with both hands, his head hung low between his arms, clad in full assault gear, complete with bulletproof vest and all the pistols: night-night guns and real ones all the same. May was certain he had taken it off at some point during the night. Must have put them on again, but why? If all red flags in May's mind weren't raised already after Simmon's near-freak-out, they would have jump up right now.

May knew she walked quietly, stealthily, but Ward heard her nonetheless. His head snapped up and his eyes seized her. There was something wild in them, something she only saw once, when he had been under the influence of the Berzerker staff. She briefly wondered if she'd looked like this too, then, but banished the thought away. There was a more urgent question – why was he like this, now?

"You," Ward breathed out. Then he straightened up, his eyes swept the corridor up and down, scanning for threats, and he spoke in a low voice. "You'll work alright too. You can protect her, maybe even better." He grabbed May's arm, still not looking at her, but everywhere else at once. He still didn't raise his voice above a heated whisper. "You need to get her out of here."

"Why?" May gently removed her arm from his grip.

"She's in danger."

"From who? Quinn is dead."

Ward finally glared at her. She could see he was still in control, but barely. Like, the smallest push in the wrong direction would tear the veil of sanity and he would just become a raging beast.

"Quinn," he seethed, "wasn't acting on his own. He was following orders. From the Clairvoyant. And the Clairvoyant didn't achieve what he wanted."

"Which is what?"

"We don't have the time to chit-chat about this!" Ward almost exploded. He pushed away from May, ran his hand through his hair, struggling to pull himself back together. Then he spoke in a much calmer, almost robotic voice. "You need to find a way to get her out of here, without..." he paused. Something choked him and he finished in a barely audible whisper, "without causing her more harm." He hid his face in his hands and shook his head, muttering something. Something that May couldn't quite understand but what sounded disturbingly like, "It's not gonna work."

May didn't say anything. She knew that she would stand guard right here and she would fight for the girl inside that room with every fiber of her being, if it came to that. But she needed Ward to tell her more, to give her the details of this danger Skye was in. Saying it was Clairvoyant and acting like there was no way out of it, wasn't satisfactory.

She heard footsteps echoing in the hospital corridor and she hoped it was Coulson. Even though she would never admit it openly, she needed his backup to deal with this mysterious danger, as well as with freaked out Ward. How did he learn about the Clairvoyant's plans for Skye anyway?

"What's going on?" Coulson demanded.

"Ward thinks we need to get Skye out of here." May replied first and when she saw Ward making no attempt to elaborate, she summarized his ... requests. Coulson glared at Ward for a while and finally pulled out his phone.

"I'll get Garrett to help us..."

Ward's reaction was so fast it startled even Melinda May. He grabbed Coulson's wrist, almost knocking the phone out of his hand, his face white like a mask, eyes crazy. "No." He uttered. "No one may know. No one except us."

"I need to get the med pod into the plane, Ward," Coulson replied calmly, not moving his hand. "I won't risk taking her without any kind of medical care."

Ward let go of Coulson's wrist and took a step back.

"Not Garrett," he mouthed.

Coulson nodded. "Who then?" he asked in all seriousness. "Sitwell?" Ward shook his head "Hand?"

"Hand, yeah, Hand is clear."

Coulson walked away, talking on the phone. Ward looked like he fought an urge to follow him, to listen in on the conversation, but he stayed. He kept pacing back and forth, like a caged puma. May wanted to know what was going on but she resorted to watching him, instead of outright asking.

She could gauge his mindset from the way he acted, she knew him well enough. Intimate relationship with the man had its benefits. Normally, he was difficult to read, closed off, keeping his distance. When he was physically naked, though, part of his soul would reveal itself too. It was only natural.

Agent Grant Ward appeared tough for any outside observer. A strong, self confident manly man. Coulson saw a potential leader in Ward, someone who would make hard calls, wouldn't hesitate under pressure. Partially May agreed with that assessment. With clear enough general goal he was that man. She saw beyond that, though. She saw that little things were a problem.

At first she'd taken over their intimate encounters, taken the lead, because that was what she had needed and Ward let her without protest. Then, one day, she had asked him if there was something he wanted to do and he was so completely flustered it would have been cute, if it hadn't been disturbing. She had felt, then, as if she hadn't been in bed with a real person, but with a dummy.

She hadn't really wondered why he was like that. Each of them had their demons, she wouldn't appreciate if he tried to fix hers. Now, though, watching him fall apart in front of her eyes, looking at Jemma Simmons following his every move with her eyes, rooted to the spot and worried, perhaps more than she worried for Skye, May wondered.

What did Garrett have to do with all this? Why such a violent reaction? May read Ward's file, she knew that Garrett recruited him straight out of the Academy. John Garrett had a keen eye for promising young cadets. From what she heard, he grabbed the grandson of one of the Howling Commandos recently. No wonder he had wanted Ward all those years ago. May had never liked Garrett very much. She'd respected the man, his efficiency was admirable, but understanding Coulson's affection for Garrett, their friendship, was something else altogether. 'He used to be different', Coulson would say. 'Before Serbia'. And then, May's life became divided too. Before Bahrain and after Bahrain. Then, part of her understood. Another part of her still didn't like Garrett's strange sense of humor, his vague air of superiority and condescending, misogynistic comments.

Ward was nothing like his former SO. He truly admired May's skills, and never made any stupid "despite you being a woman" comments. He had actually taken that gender equality thing to the extreme when he'd explained to her why he had taken that punch for her, way back when. His "don't flatter yourself" had stung a little, although Melinda knew it shouldn't have; they were on a par. Also, his fondness for the younger members of the team was genuine, even if he appeared somewhat exasperated by their antics. He took his role as their protector very seriously. He was really terrified for Skye right now. It was all far removed from anything Melinda May knew about John Garrett. John Garrett was simply unable to care for another human being.

May wondered how someone like Ward could be under command of John Garrett for so long. It was close to five years now, wasn't it? It must have been how he was so good at following orders, following another person's lead, but it wasn't natural to him. Ward must have been relieved when the reassign order came and he had the opportunity to change the scenery.

He must have guessed something from Garrett's behavior now, that sent him into a tailspin.

Coulson finished talking and Ward turned to him, alert, expectant.

"We'll have the pod at the airport within an hour," the boss smiled lightly but it was no good for Ward.

"That's too long." He turned to stare at Skye through the glass.

"It's not." Coulson lay a hand on Ward's arm and Ward flinched, made an attempt to wriggle out from his grasp. Coulson ignored the reaction; squeezed him harder, if anything, grounded him. "Doctors need to prepare her anyway and we need to transport her from here to the airport. An hour is just fine."

* * *

t.b.c.


	3. Chapter 3

**Early Enough  
****Chapter Three**

* * *

_"I believe in signs...what we need to learn is always there before us, we just have to look around us with respect and attention to discover where God is leading us and which step we should take. When we are on the right path, we follow the signs, and if we occasionally stumble, the Divine comes to our aid, preventing us from making mistakes." _  
**~Paulo Coelho, _The Zahir_**

* * *

Transporting Skye to the ambulance and then to the airport was not that hard. The med pod was already installed when they arrived, Fitz and the tech team finishing the adjustments of mechanical and electronic connections between the Bus and the interchangeable modular room. Skye woke up during transport. Fortunately, despite being somewhat startled by this situation, she remained calm. They all rode with her in the ambulance and Phil's calm words were enough to get her to fall asleep again. As it turned out, the most difficult thing during the whole transfer, was to keep Ward from freaking out.

May didn't have patience for that, Phil could see how torn she was between wanting to stand guard for Skye and fighting the urge to shut Ward up with a solid punch in the teeth. Jemma, on the other hand, was simply scared.

Coulson took it upon himself to sit next to Ward in the ambulance, near the door, keeping him away from both Skye and May, keeping an eye on his hands, that were continuously hovering between his guns and his knife.

"He'll know," Ward whispered at one moment. "He already knows."

"We're here to protect her," Coulson replied quietly. "He won't get past us."

Ward shook his head, his breath quickening. "Garrett always gets what he wants."

Coulson could see a question "which is what?" written all over Melinda May's face. She sat on the opposite side of the ambulance and glared at Ward and at Phil but Phil simply shook his head, to which she pursed her lips, shrugged and looked out the window.

Now was not the time to demand explanations. They needed to secure Skye, take off and be separated from the people, the threats, on the ground. Only then they would take Ward's full statement. However, what concerned Coulson most in this whole situation, was Ward's demeanor and whether his ability to act rationally was compromised. This man had highest combat scores, best espionage marks and yet, he was acting like he was... afraid. No, not afraid – terrified. Of his former Supervising Officer. Of the man Coulson knew and, frankly, liked. Or used to like and still had a lot of sentiment for, even though they hadn't really interacted much, for years now. Why would Ward fear him so?

"Fix me a mild sedative in drinking water," Coulson whispered to Simmons before he went to check on Skye. Earlier he'd ordered Ward to wait for him in the lounge upstairs. Simmons nodded solemnly.

May got them into the air and set an autopilot, then she let Coulson know she was available. Phil took the glass from Simmons, told her and Fitz to stay near Skye and make sure she had everything she needed and walked up the stairs. Before the door to the lab closed he heard Fitz's accusatory tone. "Now, there's going to be explaining." Indeed, there had to finally be some explaining.

Ward, surprisingly, waited on the couch when Phil entered the lounge. He was still in full assault gear, he sat, unmoving, leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced and glared at the coffee table with unseeing eyes. Phil cleared his throat, announcing his presence. Ward half turned to him but didn't look up.

"I know you're here," he said.

"Good. Have some water." Phil placed the glass in front of him and a corner of Ward's mouth twitched. He took it and gulped down the content. He wiped his mouth and exhaled.

"Think it will help?" He chuckled mirthlessly.

"Won't hurt to try."

May neared them and they both took seats in the armchairs on either sides of Ward, May to his left and Phil to his right.

"So," Coulson started, "I think you need to fill us in now."

Ward sighed. "What do you want to know?"

"Who is the Clairvoyant?" May went straight to the point. Phil wouldn't have come up with a better question to ask.

Especially considering the answer.

"It's Garrett." Ward said it so quietly, Coulson had to check Melinda's expression to make sure she heard the same thing. She looked sufficiently surprised. If her thought process was anything like his – and he had reasons to assume it was; they would often come to similar conclusions – she would have figured that Garrett was associated with the Clairvoyant. But to actually be him? Well, that took a lot more mental gymnastics.

"He doesn't have any superpowers, though, does he?" Phil made sure he understood everything correctly. Although, considering Ward's fear of the man... Maybe something happened, at some point, that changed things. He thought he would know if it did, but then, he learned, in a painful way, that there were things above his clearance level. Garrett-Clairvoyant could be one of those things.

"No." Ward was still sitting in the same position, still staring ahead with unseeing eyes. "He has access to highly classified information, that's how he knows things about people, about where they are, with whom, for what purpose. From surveillance. That's how he's going to know Skye is on the plane." He turned to look at Coulson now. "If he doesn't already."

This could explain things, Coulson had to agree with that. It was clever, it was very clever. He remembered his interrogation, how Raina knew about his father, his defining moment, or about dinners at Richmond. Phil knew that nothing an agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. did, went unnoticed. There were other things though, things that weren't in the reports.

"What about Skye?" he asked. Skye said something on their way from the mansion to the Bus, repeated words Quinn told her. 'What would hurt Coulson more than losing his fav girl?' And Ward said that Quinn followed an order form Clairvoyant. "How did he know I cared about her? How did he know about relationships on the plane?"

Ward was still looking at him with dark, hooded eyes.

"For that he had me," he admitted with a sad twist of his lips.

May stood up rapidly, hands curled in fists and glared at Ward with shock and reproof.

"You were spying on us?" she seethed.

Coulson felt something cold creep up his spine as he remembered May's confession from a week ago. As he remembered Ward talking about their relationship only yesterday, before shit hit the fan. As he couldn't use the word 'sex'. It wasn't just sex, then. But what the hell was it?

Ward, head bowed, laced and unlaced his long fingers.

"It was a job," he muttered. "I was following orders."

Melinda wanted to speak up but Coulson rose to his feet as well and put up a hand, attracting her attention.

"I think you should stay out of this conversation for now," he told her. "Ward obviously defected to our side and he doesn't need to be judged for his past sins at the moment. We'll have time to return to it later. Right now, you need to take a break; you are too emotional."

"Oh, you haven't seen me emotional, Coulson," May contradicted her own words with how she shook her head so hard, her hair flailed about. Coulson remained stoic and she pursed her lips. "Fine then!" She stormed out of the lounge and they could hear her angry steps on the stairs.

Coulson sighed and sat back down.

"What does Clairvoyant... Garrett... What does he want to achieve by killing Skye?"

"He doesn't want to kill Skye. He just wanted her to be critically injured, so injured that medicine would be helpless." Ward suddenly turned to Coulson with his whole body. "You have to understand, Garrett..." he hesitated. "He has a reason. All he ever wanted was to find out... How you were fixed."

"Me?"

"You were critically injured. You were dead for eight seconds, or for forty seconds, or for however long it really was and you were brought back. Without any lasting effects."

Phil glared at Ward as the realization of what all this really meant was finally hammered home by those words. May being used by Ward for sexual relationship was one thing. This?

John Garrett used to be his friend. Phil respected John Garrett. When they had talked, a few months ago, about Ward, about Phil taking him in to 'smooth his rough edges', they had shared stories from their service together, way back when and they had laughed. Ward had came to his team as an ally, integrated with the team, pretended to be their friend as well.

For the sole purpose of gaining information. Phil felt bile rise in his throat.

"He had me kidnapped and tortured," he uttered through clenched throat. "And you knew about it."

Ward pulled back, his face contorted in disgust for a fraction of a second, smoothing into an indifferent mask in an instant. He swallowed hard.

"I didn't know he... I didn't know what he was going to do to you. I didn't know his plans for Skye, either. Until he told me to..." Ward choke. The indifferent mask was slipping away. "Quinn was supposed to do it and I eliminated him. He wanted me to correct my mistake." Ward wrapped his arms around his middle and rocked, a movement very small, very tense, his brows drawn together, like in pain. "I couldn't," he uttered. "I chickened out, I failed him. But you could help me." He looked up at Phil with hope. "If you just remembered what had happened to you then. If Skye was dying, wouldn't you do anything in your power to help her? You would. You would try to get to the bottom of this, find out how Fury saved you. Why did Fury save you? Why didn't he do the same thing for Garrett? He's a great man, he deserved this every bit you did. That's all he needs. To know how you were cured. Why do you keep it from him?"

Coulson couldn't believe what he was hearing.

"What part of kidnapped and tortured don't you understand?" he exclaimed, indignant.

"You used to be friends," Ward accused. "Is that how you treat a friend?" Phil just listened, his eyes growing wider, rendered speechless by Ward's argumentation. Shouldn't it be the other way around? Shouldn't he be the one saying those words to Ward? To Garrett? "I helped you." Ward stood up, staggered a little. Wiped his face. "I let Skye live, I saved her from fate worse than death, from terrible pain, terrible suffering. Doesn't it count for something?"

"No." Phil watched him with growing terror. "I'm afraid this was exactly what you should have done. You did the right thing telling us, protecting her. That was the right thing to do!"

"No." Ward shook his head. "No, no, no." He walked around the low table, into the open area between the lounge and the command center. He ran his fingers through his hair. "It was the wrong thing to do. I betrayed Garrett's trust, trust of the only person who... Of the person who risked everything for me, time and time again. I made a mistake. Maybe I should just..." He turned to Coulson, spread his arms. "What if I did what I was told? Maybe I should just go down there and damage her, like I was ordered to. What will you do then? Will you move heaven and earth to save her?" He swayed on his feet. The sedative Simmons put into his drink must have started working but it was not fully effective yet.

"May," Coulson tapped his earpiece. "I think you need to come up here. With a night-night gun."

"You're calling Cavalary?" Ward mocked. "I have guns too." He didn't reach for any of them. "I could shoot you before she came."

"I don't think you would do that," Coulson stated with more conviction than he actually felt. "I don't think you really want to hurt any of us. You're a good person and you care about us."

"I don't!" Ward screamed. Phil felt Melinda's presence behind his back and he lifted a hand, signaling her, 'not yet'. But then Ward reached for a gun, a real gun, not night-night gun. He shouted, "It's a weakness!" and...

May fired.

Ward staggered backward, his hand went limp and his knees buckled under him. He fell onto his back with a soft grunt.

"Great job," commented May.

* * *

"He's a traitor." May's opinion on Ward was clear and simple.

They had locked him in the cell and now sat, four of them, in the lab, watching Skye asleep in the med pod on one of the monitors and Ward, also asleep inside the cell, on the other.

"Technically," said Fitz, "if he worked for Garrett, spying on us, he's not a traitor, because he was never on our side to begin with. Unless we count the fact that he betrayed Garrett to save Skye, then, yes he is a traitor, but in our eyes it's a virtue, not a flaw."

Simmons nodded but remained uncharacteristically quiet.

"There's more to it." Coulson couldn't shake off the sense of dread that crept over him. "The things he was saying... He wasn't making any sense."

"What things?"

"Things like... I can't even repeat it." He needed to focus really hard to make any heads or tails from Ward's rambling. "That Garrett was a good guy, he said. A great man." He looked up at his friends one by one. He hoped they all would agree that such opinion on the Clairvoyant was an atrocity. "He had me kidnapped and tortured. No great person does that!"

"Not to mention that the Clairvoyant is involved with the Centipede program." Fitz nodded. "The creation of the supersoldiers-"

"Injecting people with the serum," added Simmons.

"And the eye thing," Fitz continued, "don't forget the exploding eye thing."

"Akela," Coulson breathed out as a thought dawned on him. They all looked up, mouth gaping.

"You think..." Fitz tried to voice what they all thought, eyes wide with horror. "Ward has one of those?"

"No." Coulson shook his head. "If he had, he would be dead already. But it is possible that he was brainwashed in some other way."

* * *

t.b.c.


	4. Chapter 4

**Early Enough  
****Chapter Four**

* * *

_"Does the walker choose the path, or the path the walker?" _  
**~Garth Nix, _Sabriel_**

* * *

When Grant woke up, the first thing he registered was head splintering pain. He cracked his eyes open a slit but light was too sharp. Laying still for a moment, he tried to remember how he ended up in this state and...

Memories came crashing down on him. Grant choked and curled up in pain around the expanding ball of emptiness in the place where his heart was supposed to be. Those memories hurt physically. And Grant couldn't even decide what hurt more – that he almost caused harm to Skye, or... that he didn't.

The consequences would be severe. The moment Garrett got to him – and he would, it was inevitable – he would give him hell. He would not only do good on his threat to Skye, he would do the same thing to Fitz and Simmons. He would most likely kill May, because she was too dangerous alive and he would maybe spare Coulson but only for as long as he would be needed to reveal the truth about his treatment. Garrett might just hurt Grant too, if he thought Grant mattered enough to Coulson.

The worst, though, the absolute worst punishment was the thing John wouldn't even mention aloud. He wouldn't have to. Grant already knew. He had failed John and the thought alone made him so disgusted with himself he wanted to throw up. He'd failed the only person in the world who had ever given him a helping hand. John was sick, dying and he counted on Grant's help, he requested nothing more than to ease his pain and suffering. And Grant proved, once again, that he was not worthy of John's trust.

"I see you're awake," a voice spoke and Ward sat upright, his back plastered against the wall, ready to take whatever punishment Garrett deemed fit.

But it was Coulson, not Garrett.

"Ward? Are you alright?"

Ward couldn't speak for a moment, then he remembered that he was supposed to be the best spy since Romanoff. He felt, almost physically, as the Grant Ward, Agent of SHIELD persona slipped onto him, like a well-fitting glove.

"I'm fine," he muttered and wiped his face, readjusted his features.

It's good. It's all good, he thought. He took in his surroundings, analyzing them for the first time. He was in a cell. It was good. He could tell Garrett that he'd gotten captured. That May had found him as he'd been about to do, what was necessary, to Skye and that this was the reason why they had taken off in such a hurry. The reason why they had taken him with them, arrested him. That was good. That was the story he would tell Garrett.

He was still gonna have to complete his mission, though. And in order to do that, he needed to regain Coulson's trust.

"I am alright." He looked at his superior and nodded. Coulson gestured to a table and two chairs, so Ward stood up, slowly. His head was still spinning and each heart beat reverberated inside his skull like a drum. He sat down with a sigh and accepted the offered bottle of water with gratitude. "Is Skye?..." he asked. Expressing concern for her was in accord with what Ward, Agent of SHIELD would say. It was not his own concern; she was not a weakness.

"She's in the med-pod downstairs." Coulson laced his fingers on the table and glared at Ward, his eyes dissecting. "She's well taken care of and on the road to full recovery. It's you I'm more concerned about." Ward bit his lips. He was half expecting this. Coulson being the good uncle. Coulson being fooled. He didn't feel bitter about it. He needed Coulson to care and he had to keep up the deceit.

Coulson took his time. He was clearly considering what to say, what questions to ask. Ward could almost see gears turning in his brain. "I need to understand this, Ward. You were following Garrett's orders to infiltrate our team, is that right?"

"Yes." Ward decided that by being truthful, at least about the things Coulson already knew, he would best prove his honesty. He had to make Coulson believe.

"Why were you following his orders?"

"Because he's... he was... I guess technically he still is," he suddenly wasn't sure. He was supposed to be Garrett's man. But was he supposed to tell Coulson that? "He was my superior officer. Now he's not." That was the correct answer.

"Were you being controlled?" This question caught Ward completely off guard.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you have an eye implant? I realize that if you do, you can't answer truthfully, but I also think that if you had an eye implant and you didn't follow orders, you would be dead already. Besides, you wouldn't have to come in direct contact with Garrett to receive those orders, right? So, no. It's not likely that you have such implant. Garrett doesn't know what you're doing at this very moment, does he?"

"No," Ward breathed out. No, Garrett didn't know. If he did... The thought made Grant gag. He felt so cold, he couldn't contain a shiver. He needed to get himself back together. He needed to pull himself under control, he was slipping and slipping was unforgivable. He had been through worse and he'd held his own, he just needed to call back to his training. He was fine. Garrett didn't know yet that he had jeopardized the whole mission.

"Good," Coulson continued. "Then you can be honest with me. Ward? Is there any other way he might control you?

Why was Coulson asking that?

"No, he doesn't control me."

"No memory altering machines were ever in use? No blackmail?"

"No."

"Then why were you following him?"

Grant looked up, surprised. "He was my S.O." He shrugged. "How was I supposed... not to?"

"Oh. Of course." Coulson ran his hand over his thin hair and nodded. "That makes sense. You thought he was a good guy, you had no reason to suspect otherwise." He sighed. "I didn't suspect anything either and I've known him for years."

Grant had a "he IS a good guy," on the tip of his tongue, but thought better of it. Obviously Coulson needed Grant to be on the same side of the fence regarding Garrett. He nodded without a word.

"I know this must be hard for you," Coulson kept talking and Grant barely heard him over the hum of blood in his ears. "You trusted him, looked up to him and he turned out to be someone who would shoot and torture others, subject people to unhuman experiments, in order to achieve his goals. Grant, I want you to know that I am proud of you. You realized that what you were involved with was wrong and you disobeyed that... That maniac." Ward felt that he was shaking. Coulson didn't seem to notice. "I wish it had happened earlier," his voice choke and Ward focused on his face. It was swimming before his eyes a moment ago, now he clearly saw Coulson trying to smile through tears. "But it's good that it happened now. I'm glad we have you on our side."

"Yeah," Ward replied and was surprised how even and calm his voice sounded. "I am happy to be on your side too."

"Good then." Coulson stood up. "Let's get you out of here." He gestured to the door and Ward heard a soft click of the lock. Someone, probably May, must have listened to the whole conversation from the control center. She deemed him trustworthy. They all believed him. He gained back their trust.

"You realize, of course," Ward said as they exited the cell and walked down the narrow corridor, "that I will have to get to Skye and do some damage in her."

Coulson came to a sudden halt.

"Excuse me?"

"If Garrett is to believe..." Ward hesitated. They agreed on this too, didn't they? "Garrett is supposed to believe I'm still on his side, isn't that... the idea?" He wasn't sure anymore. Was it only him who was supposed to believe it? Was he supposed to believe it, or was it supposed to be the truth? What was the truth? He looked up at Coulson, pleading with him to make things clear once and for all.

Before Coulson managed to articulate an answer though, May came right to them.

"We have company," she said in urgent tone. "S.H.I.E.L.D. demands we return the witness in the ongoing investigation to the officer in charge. A plane will be docking with us any minute. I gotta go to the cockpit."

Ward's heart begun to hammer in his chest but it was as if all blood flowed down from his head and pooled somewhere in his intestines. He felt about to vomit and unable to breathe at the same time. Garrett. A wall of the corridor slammed him in his back and he clawed at the padding.

"Ward. Ward!" Someone was yelling. He saw faces but they swam in front of his eyes, blurry and unrecognizable. "What's going on with him? Help me get him back to the cell. Fitz, get Simmons here, with a sedative. Yes, you need to give him a shot." And then everything went black.

* * *

"Fitz, Simmons, don't talk to him at all if you can. If there's no other way and he asks- Do not say anything unprompted, please, but if he asks, May found Ward in Skye's room attempting to hurt her and she incapacitated him. We have no idea why he was trying to do what he did. Oh, and have night-night guns at your side at all times and don't hesitate to shoot if necessary, we'll worry about explaining it later. Best lock yourselves in the lab."

Coulson was frantic. They didn't have much time; May could only feign turbulence for that long. Eventually the whole plane vibrated with a clear message that another aircraft attached itself to it. For a few long seconds Coulson clung to the hope that it wasn't Garrett.

Such hope was in vain. Garrett came and he wasn't alone.

"Agent Antoine Triplett," the officer in charge introduced his companion. "Trip joined me as my specialist after Ward came to your circus. Go secure the witness," he ordered and the younger man trotted down the stairs immediately. Coulson couldn't help but wonder if Garrett was doing the same thing with him, that he had done to Ward. The thing that would turn his stoic, strong specialist into a whimpering child now locked up in a cell. Coulson wonder if he could save one more soul from the clutches of a monster.

"Why are you here, Garrett?" he asked in a manner that, he hoped, was calm and polite. "I wanted my agent to be treated at the Hub. Is that suddenly not allowed?"

"She is a witness in an investigation, Coulson." Garrett's voice was just as calm and collected but his smile reminded Phil of a lizard. "I think she might know something. If she's well enough, I hope you wouldn't mind if I asked her a few question. Then I'll be out of your hair."

"I'll see how she's doing." Coulson walked down the stairs. May, thankfully, just emerged from the cockpit and stood in the middle of their living area at loose attention, not quite threatening but definitely not friendly. "You may wait here." Coulson gestured to the couch. "May will keep you company."

As he walked toward the stairs to the lab, he heard Garrett asking May a question and her voice replying in short, curt half-sentences.

They were about an hour away from the Hub. If they could keep Garrett from both Skye and Ward, they might yet get out of this unscathed. They only needed to deal with Antoine Triplett.

* * *

"Fitz, it was just a panic attack, that's all," Jemma was trying to get her restlessly pacing partner to stand still for a minute. She wanted to scream and melt down herself, but it was hardly time for such nonsense.

"I thought Ward didn't panic. Ever. Isn't that what he said the other day?" Fitz's arm shot up and about, as if waving it was supposed to evidence the truth in the words spoken.

Jemma sighed and massaged her temple. She was distraught herself. On edge from the moment Ward asked her to get Coulson, in a voice not his own. She hadn't slept too, for what felt like months. And now they were under a direct threat from the Clairvoyant and they were supposed to pretend they didn't know the Clairvoyant was the Clairvoyant. She really wasn't good at pretending.

A knock in the glass door to the lab frightened her so much, she turned around, night-night gun in hand, and squeezed the trigger even before she noticed who the attacker was. And long – a second – before she realized that she couldn't hurt him through the glass anyway.

The man on the other side, a bald guy with stylish beard, took a step back, his eyes wide and his brows rising almost to the top of his head.

"Whoa!" he put both his palms up. "I mean you no harm!"

"You won't get past us!" Jemma yelled, still aiming her gun at him, until Fitz came up to her and put a hand on it, forcing her to lower it to the ground.

He shook his head.

"It's alright, Jemma, he's a friend. Aren't you?" He turned to the man on the other side of the glass door.

"Sure!" The man smiled, showing his white teeth in a wide grin. His whole face smiled. A man who smiled like this couldn't be evil. Jemma still held the gun though, ready to put it up and fire again, if the stranger made any threatening moves. "My name is Antoine Triplett and Garrett, my SO, ordered me to secure the witness. That's all I wanna do."

At the name Garrett, Jemma was about to lift the gun but Fitz's palm held her in place.

"Sure," he said in a voice that might be conversational and friendly, but Jemma clearly heard hostile notes. "And why would you need to secure her? She's secure enough."

"Hey!" The guy on the other side furrowed his brow. "What are you guys doing? I'm not your enemy!" he exclaimed.

"We'll see about that," Coulson replied, as he descended down the stairs, a night-night gun in hand. "Fitzsimmons, open the door. We need to talk, Agent Triplett."

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N:** Great thank you to everyone who favorited or followed, but most of all to those who reviewed. It really means a lot to me to know what you think about this story, even if it's only a short sentence. :)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: **Hey, lovlies! Sorry it took so long to update this chapter. I went into a few roadblocks, wrote myself into a corner and somesuch. I really wanted to include Triplett in the "family". Garrett, on the other hand, needs to be far away from Ward. I think I finally found the way out of this mess, thanks to a brainstorming session with lovely Vesprass Anuna. And awesome Captain Summer Day gave me a couple of great points on how to make Fitz more Fitzy.  
I hope the chapter works now. And that next ones will be coming at a better pace. :)_**  
**_

* * *

**Early Enough**  
**Chapter Five**

* * *

_"Don't confuse poor decision-making with destiny. Own your mistakes. It's okay; we all make them. Learn from them so they can empower you!" _  
** Steve Maraboli _Life, the Truth, and Being Free_**

* * *

Those people were bat-shit crazy. Garrett had warned Trip they might come across some issues, that Coulson had that paranoid streak to him, but apparently he made the whole team act like they were on some sort of crusade against the unknown enemy that hid in the shadows.

All Trip and Garrett wanted, was to ask Skye some questions about the mansion. Who was there? Who shot her? Why did they shoot her? Who was the mysterious person with a metallic leg? They were in charge of the investigation for crying out loud and Coulson snatched the only eye witness, without consulting anyone about this, and in a hurry. Garrett had told him that in case of trouble he would call on his man inside Coulson's team, Grant Ward, who so far was nowhere to be seen. Triplett had heard enough about the guy from the people under Garrett's command and he disliked Ward even before getting to know this walking legend – but he'd much rather meet Ward first, than those three crazies who stood in front of him right now.

At least the girl – Jemma? Was that what her colleague called her? She must have been Jemma Simmons and he was probably Leo Fitz, another legends, this time from Sci-tech Academy – wasn't holding a gun anymore. Those two, surprisingly, didn't strike him as vile. Simmons looked sheepish and had that air of honest innocence to her. Triplett couldn't really be mad at someone who looked at him with such large, apologetic eyes. The guy – Fitz – gave him glares from under a furrowed brow, trying so hard to appear menacing, that Trip felt involuntary smile creep up onto his face.

Then, there was Coulson and Coulson was a whole different story.

"Agent Triplett," he asked, when his younger subordinate locked the door behind them. "We don't have much time, so I need a quick answer. Do you trust your S.O. implicitly, or has there been anything in his behavior or actions that made you ever doubt him?"

Trip stopped for a moment, but not really to wonder about the question. Coulson had a gun trained at him. If the answer was wrong, he might earn a bullet where he didn't need one.

"Well..." He stalled for time.

"Honest answer, Agent. And sooner rather than later. Did you ever, even once, had a reason to doubt him?"

Didn't everyone? Each and every person made mistakes from time to time. Triplett wanted to ask Coulson's subordinates if they had never doubted their boss, but he bit his tongue. It wasn't reasonable to get into a verbal contest with a superior.

And then something about their stance stroke him. He looked closer at those two young people hiding behind Coulson. Behind. He stood front, shielding them. They were the scientists, so naturally they were not trained to fight, but still. A leader protecting his minions was an unfamiliar sight. And it shouldn't have been. This was what his grandfather had always taught him – a leader is responsible for the people under his command. It only took several months for him to forget that principle.

Triplett took in other details – the way they were both dressed, casually. Not that scientists had as strict uniform code as military personnel, but in Garrett's team everyone followed some sort of order. They should have worn lab coats at least. And – a more tangible difference – the scientists were definitely not afraid of Coulson, while everyone on Garrett's team feared the man in charge.

Garrett wanted to talk to Skye. It was Trip's job to make sure Garrett got what he wanted. That was how it worked.

At first – Triplett remembered – he hadn't liked it but then he'd gotten used to it. Then he'd started to appreciate the kind of training Garrett granted his people. If he allowed himself a moment of reflection though, he would remember it was not the kind of S.H.I.L.E.D. training his grandfather had talked about back in the day. Garrett had nothing to do with the principles that got him to join S.H.I.E.L.D. He simply tried not to dwell on it, pushed it to the back of his head, because that's where he was now, with Garrett, and if the higher-ups thought that was where he belonged, it was his duty to obey their decisions. To trust the system.

"Agent Triplett." Coulson's patience was running out. "Yes or no? We don't have all day."

Triplett remembered one more thing. One that happened early on, so vague he could never confront Garrett about it directly but he felt in his gut that he had been mistreated.

"He acted somewhat like a racist there, for a moment, sir," he blurted. "But I don't have nothing specific, it was just that impression, you know."

"I don't need a proof, Agent Triplett. I already have a proof. Just your general... impression... will be enough." Coulson glanced at the stairs, as if checking if no one was coming. His younger colleagues followed his gaze in consort, like they were of one mind. Trip's unease spiked again, unwanted.

"Sir, I..." he stuttered. "I don't know. Garrett is my S.O. I shouldn't..."

"We will protect you from him, if things go wrong."

And there it was, the reason why nothing those people were saying made sense. Triplett already found himself wanting them to be right but how could he believe in something so absurd? Garrett had warned him about this. He had explained how, since his near-death experience, Coulson was falling deeper and deeper into paranoia, seeing enemies everywhere and poisoning everyone around him with suspicions and distrust. "You have to listen to what he says carefully and weed out truth from all the head trips," Garrett had said.

Coulson lowered his gun and came within touch distance to Triplett.

"We have a reason to believe Garrett is the Clairvoyant," he informed Trip in a low voice. "We think he wants to hurt Skye and we can't let that happen. But we need your help with that. Just to divert his attention until we get to the Hub. Will you help us?"

Triplett didn't know what to say. His training so far hadn't prepared him to talk to someone plagued with delusions. He had some theoretical knowledge about dealing with people who were under the influence of supernatural objects and that seemed to be as close to dealing with one losing their mind as he would get. He decided to take that approach. First, do not antagonize.

He nodded and muttered an "okay," but before he managed to elaborate, he heard the muffled voice of his S.O. through the glass door. Despite the isolation, Garrett's anger was clearly discernible and Triplett felt strange cold. Fear. He wasn't afraid before. Despite Coulson acting like a maniac, his reservation had nothing on what he felt hearing displeasure in his S.O.'s voice. If Garrett even suspected he fell for Coulson's wacky ploy, he would have hell to pay.

The worst part was that he wasn't sure anymore what he wanted to believe.

He knew he wanted to be able to talk to his grandmother about what he was doing in S.H.I.E.L.D. and so far he hadn't. If he told her about Garrett, it would break the old woman's heart. All he could do was play both, Coulson and Garrett for the time being and see how the situation evolves.

Coulson hid his pistol behind the strap of his pants, under the jacket and signaled for Fitz to kill the live feeds on the screens behind them, of Skye's med-pod and another one, was it the inside of the cell? Trip cursed himself for not paying attention to it earlier. Then Coulson told Simmons to open the door.

"Oh, silly me," the scientist chirped. "It's a force of habit, really. Excuse me, Agent Garrett, please, come in." She was terrible at this. Her voice shook and her hands trembled and Garrett took her in with one assessing stare. Triplett knew instantly that his S.O. caught up with the game and his instinct screamed for him to protect this innocent girl. Possibly from both, Garrett and Coulson. Buying time seemed like the best option at the moment.

Garrett's gaze swept over everyone in the room and landed on Triplett, piercing, dissecting and Trip put on his best flamboyant face.

"What's going on here?" asked Garrett.

"You mean Skye? She's sleeping like a babe. Didn't have the heart to wake her." Trip smiled innocently. Garrett only narrowed his eyes. "We'll have the time to question her at the Hub. I mean she does need to recover, too." It felt strangely good to oppose Garrett. Damn, Triplett found himself secretly hoping that Coulson wasn't in fact crazy and that he would do good on that promise to protect him if things went south.

"Sure." Garrett bared his teeth but his eyes had enough fire in them, Trip barely contained the urge to protect his face from getting burned. His S.O. slowly took the few steps that separated them and put a hand on his arm. Trip had to put a conscious effort into not tensing up. Garrett smiled at Coulson. "May I see her?"

"What, you think she's not on the plane, or something?" Coulson asked, smirking and Trip just gaped. Coulson was mocking Garrett. Deliberately. He cast a brief glance at his S.O., who looked like he was about to steam out of ears, then back at Coulson. Who was still smirking.

Garrett reined himself in.

"There must be a reason why you are acting all queasy," he seethed. "Like you're hiding something, Phil. Are you hiding something?"

"No."

"Then why can't I see her?"

"You can. I just don't think it's necessary to do it right now. I really wouldn't like to wake her, she's been through enough and she needs all the rest she can get. Any commotion around her might be disturbing, that's all."

Silence that fell was so thick it could be cut with a proverbial knife. But Coulson didn't seem fazed. Trip was beginning to admire the man. He was nothing like a crazy paranoiac Garrett painted him to be.

And if Garrett lied and Coulson was actually speaking the truth... The implications were too appalling to consider.

Clairvoyant had killed three of their men.

"Where is Ward?" Garrett launched at Coulson from another angle.

"He stayed behind. Didn't he contact you?" Coulson replied with infinite calmness

"No."

"He must have missed you then. I'll notify him to catch up with us at the Hub. Meanwhile I really suggest we go upstairs and have some coffee, talk about old times. You'll have a chance to speak with Skye as soon as doctors at the Hub clear her. Trip may stay here with FitzSimmons. They seem to have found a common tongue quite nicely." Coulson glared at the scientists, nodded at Trip in passing and gently removed Garrett's hand from the specialist's arm. "Shall we?"

Garrett knew better than to resist. At this point he was well aware that Coulson played him and arguing further would only reinforce whatever suspicions Coulson had. What was worse, Trip thought, was that he probably knew his man had a part in this. The concept of forgiveness didn't exist in Garrett's repertoire. Trip realized there was no turning back for him anymore.

If Coulson spoke the truth, he didn't even want to go back. The only friend he had in Garrett's team had died in a car bomb explosion two weeks ago.

When Garrett, Coulson and May disappeared upstairs, Triplett turned to the science duo.

"You're gonna tell me how you know that Garrett is the Clairvoyant, now."

* * *

Fitz knew the ins and outs of their predicament mostly from Jemma and from watching the feed of Coulson talking to Ward. Jemma was in no shape, at the moment, to explain anything to their guest; she had stayed at the hospital, while Fitz had returned here for the night and now she kept prattling incoherently. Fitz tried to send her back to her bunk and after some resistance – "but I need to keep an eye on Skye" – she gave up and used the backdoor ladder to climb straight to the sleeping area of the Bus. But not before making sure Fitz knew all the seventy eight instances in which he was supposed to wake her up immediately and bring to Skye's side, and returning five times because she was sure she forgot about something very, very important. Now Fitz stood in front of the monitor watching Skye sleep peacefully. There was no danger. Other than John Garrett of course.

"So, basically," Triplett scratched his neck, "you think Garrett is Clairvoyant, because Ward told you he is. After admitting that he had been a mole here, spying on you for the man, all this time. And you had no problem believing that."

Fitz shrugged. Trip would have to see it to understand, he'd have to know the man. Ward was as tough as they go, there was nothing that could break Ward. Damn, there was nothing that could make him bend a little. And this broke him. Fitz didn't tell Triplett as much. "We trust our own," he sputtered instead.

"But Ward isn't one of your own. He was spying on you."

"And he changed sides." Fitz fidgeted. He wanted to believe in Ward, Ward was their friend. And he saved Skye's life. He had told them about Garrett's plan and saved Skye's life. Only then, Coulson mentioned some nonsense about how Ward was still a threat to Skye, how he'd said he still had orders, but it'd been gibberish. And they hadn't had the time to sit down and hear him out, because Garrett showed up. That he didn't tell Triplett either.

Why couldn't they simply shoot Garrett? Not kill, but with a night-night gun? He would be much less trouble this way. Oh, probably because they had no proof that Garrett was the Clairvoyant, other than Ward's confession and that was unreliable because apparently Ward was not emotionally stable right now.

"Can I speak with Ward?" Trip asked. "Where is he really? I assume he is right here on the plane."

"You are so smart, aren't you?"

Triplett smirked and shrugged in answer. Fitz really, really didn't like him.

What were they going to do with him now? He technically betrayed Garrett just like Ward had and who knew what this man, this monster, Clairvoyant, was able to do to people who betrayed him. Was Triplett honest though? Or was he only playing them, to stab them all in the backs afterwards? Who could they trust?

"Why does this gun have that funny barrell?" Trip changed the subject, picking up the night-night gun Fitz mistakenly put on the holotable. He released the magazine and eyed it curiously. "And blue bullets? Are you hunting vampires or something?"

"Hey, hand's off!" Fitz ran around the holotable and Trip took a step back, his smirk turning into a full-on grin. He lifted the gun up and Fitz refrained from making a total fool of himself and didn't instantly jump him. "Night-night pistol is a delicate piece of weaponry, you idjot. You'll muck it up!"

"Night-night pistol? Seriously? What does it do? Lull you to sleep?"

"Pretty much. Give it back."

"It's a silly name."

"Yeah? Funny coming from you, Antoine. I'll take your feedback under consideration next time I invent something to save your arse!"

They stood in front of each other, Fitz fuming, Triplett smirking, when suddenly Trip's eyes darted behind Fitz's back and his face turned serious.

"Oh, you better not say there's a three headed monkey..." Fitz started, but curiosity took the better of him anyway, he glanced behind his back and voice died in his throat.

There, on the live feed from Skye's med-pod he saw Garrett nearing her bed.

"Ska..." he spun back, but Triplett was no longer standing in front of him.

If hasty steps were any indication, Trip ran to Skye's med-pod. Before Fitz caught up with him, he heard a familiar hiss of a night-night gun, a groan and a thud. Breathless, he squeezed behind Triplett and all dislike and distrust he felt for the new member of their team evaporated at the sight of an unconscious Garrett.

"I guess now we have an irrefutable proof," said Triplett turning to him.

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N:** Comments make me a happier writer. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Early Enough  
****Chapter Six**

* * *

_"Sometimes you have to ride over the bumps in the road to avoid running off a cliff. Other times you may have to fall into the potholes to avoid hitting the trees."_  
**~Eugene Nathaniel Butler **

* * *

Letting Ward out of the cell was a risk and May would have told Coulson that, had she been with him when he had made the decision. Alas, she had been in the cockpit, maneuvering the Bus through the Hub airspace and to the landing approach. Yes, Bus had automatic systems but with the smaller plane attached to her upside it was safer to have human at the stick, if course-correction was necessary in case of the unexpected.

Of course the unexpected had happened onboard the plane the moment she'd left Coulson alone with Garrett. From what she later gathered, Simmons had panicked. She'd remembered that she should have monitored Ward's vital signs after giving him tranquilizers, but in all the rush, the Clairvoyant's threat and her being half-conscious from exhaustion – she had neglected that duty.

She had needed Coulson to let her into the cell. So Coulson had left Garrett unattended for three seconds total.

At least that move had given Garrett the opening to make a mistake and to the great relief of them all, Agent Triplett had done the right thing. Then, Coulson had decided that keeping a knocked-out Garrett contained until they would have landed and could give him to the authorities, took precedence over restraining Ward. Besides, he had argued, Ward was one of their own and he wouldn't hurt them. He had argued that he could talk sense into Ward.

Meanwhile he left May in charge of said talking.

Simmons had given Ward a cup of steaming chamomile tea and a plate of biscuits but he touched neither. At least her worry about possible side effects of the medication had been unfounded as it turned out that the dose she'd given him had been too small rather than too large and he had already been awakened when she and Coulson had opened his cell. They'd let him out and sat him in the dinette and when May had landed, Coulson asked that she remained with Ward and Fitz and Simmons (who kept running between the dinette and Skye's med-pod – "No, Garrett didn't have the time to do any damage.") while he and Agent Triplett had gone into the Hub, to turn Garrett over to the higher ups.

Ward, from what Simmons reported, had only asked two questions since he'd been let out. "What are you going to do with me?" and "What's gonna happen to him?" referring to Garrett. He hadn't reacted to Simmons's "I don't know," to the first question and Coulson's, "We're gonna hand him over. We have a proof now," to the second one.

"You should at least drink your tea," Simmons said tiredly. "It is completely cold by now." She reached to touch the cup standing in front of Ward and nodded. "Like I said, completely cold. I'll make you a new one." She grabbed it and went to the kitchenette.

Ward remained still, slightly hunched, hands on his lap, staring at the wet trace of the mug on the table.

"He's not gonna stay locked up long," he spoke, startling them all. Fitz actually jumped and glared at Ward with furrowed brow. He opened his mouth to blurt out something but May controlled herself first

"What do you mean?"

Ward shook his head. "He knows people. In all the high places. You really have nothing on him."

"He threatened Skye."

"Did he?" Ward looked up at her, and only thanks to her ingrained ability to withhold any bodily reaction, May didn't recoil. His eyes were bleak, empty, like the eyes of a dead man. Out of the blue, a memory of the way he looked at her during sex resurfaced. It was scarily similar but it had satisfied her then, this lack of commitment on his part, she hadn't needed the complications brought on by feelings, by desire. Now the look in his eyes made her heart race – not with longing but with dread. "Did he have a gun, a knife?" Ward asked in a low voice, then shook his head as if answering himself. "He didn't harm her and he sure as hell knows how to harm without leaving a single trace leading back to him. If there was no harm... There's nothing you can prove."

"We have your confession."

"It's worth nothing. My word, against his..." Ward twisted his lips in a mock smile and shook his head. Then he dropped his gaze to his hands. "Besides Coulson didn't ask me to testify," he said in a voice so quiet, May had to strain her ears to hear the words.

"And when he asks," she tried but she was afraid she already knew the answer, "will you?"

Simmons returned with fresh tea and hesitated. Glanced at Ward, at May, then at Ward again. Bit her lips and put the cup in front of him.

"Are you warm enough?" She sat on the stool next to him and touched his palm. He tensed and his breath quickened, nostrils flared. "Sorry. Do you need me to get you a blanket? Your hands are ice-cold."

"I'm fine."

"Are you still loyal to him?" May needed to ask this question. She wasn't sure the answer she would get would be truthful but she needed to see his reaction.

Ward looked up at her again and shrugged. He had the audacity to shrug.

"I should be," he said, then averted his gaze again. "I want to be. He's like a father to me, I owe him everything." His voice broke.

"What do you owe him?" Simmons cut in, sounding offended on his behalf. "From the way you talk about him I'd say you are afraid of him! Is that how you're supposed to feel toward your father?"

May wanted to curse her for interfering but something in Ward's face, a genuine surprise at her outburst, made her stop and watch closely instead.

"Did he ever hurt you?" asked Fitz like it was something strange, some concept from another reality.

Ward turned to Fitz now, with a matching expression of confusion and disbelief. He didn't reply, instead, after a brief staring contest he focused on the tea cup, reached for it and lifted it to his lips in a very deliberate move. Tea was steaming but if it scalded his mouth, he didn't seem to notice. He placed it back on the table, carefully in the same spot and exhaled.

"I am not afraid of John," he said slowly, not looking at anyone. "If he had ever hurt me, it was only to teach me, to make me stronger. I am grateful for it. He helped me, he cared about me. He's the only person who ever gave a damn. He gave me a chance, saved me." Ward looked up now, looked at May and she had never seen so much pain in another person's eyes. She had only seen that kind of torment once. Before she'd broken a mirror. "I love him," Ward told her. "And I would do anything for him."

"Even kill us?" May knew ways to make people bleed. Both physical and emotional. Right now she felt repelled by that ability, because despite her anger, her fury at Ward's betrayal – that wasn't technically a betrayal as Fitz had pointed out – this was still the man she cared about mere two days ago. She didn't want to be the one to cause him pain. But she had to. This needed to be done, she needed him to hurt more than he ever had. She needed that pain to wake him up, to snap him out of it. If he could snap out of it, if it really was not his true self. "If Garrett ordered you to kill Fitz, would you do that?" she demanded and Ward cast an involuntary glance at Fitz, uttering a muffled sob. "If he ordered you to put down Simmons?" He turned to the biochemist now, his breath quick and ragged. "You refused to kill Skye." May leaned in closer. "You protected her from him. And you know there will be consequences. You disobeyed an order and now you lie to yourself thinking you can somehow go back. But you can't. And you have to make up your mind, Ward. You have to decide if you're loyal to Garrett out of love for him, or out of fear. Because if it's the latter, then you can walk away. You can set yourself free. But if it's the former, you can only go and rot in that prison, along with him."

Ward looked up. He was still breathing fast and his eyes were shining and he was shaking, his entire body trembled and he was not such an awesome specialist and spy now.

"You have no idea," he seethed. "I have just told you; he's not going to stay in prison. And when he gets out, what happens to me is the least of your worries. Because he's going to come after you." He slowly raised from his seat, unfolded his tall form and loomed over her now, even though she stood up as well. He wasn't threatening though, May was not afraid of him. He was pathetic. And then he wasn't. "That's why I am afraid. For you. Not for myself, because I'm..." his voice failed and then he added brokenly, "but for you."

"That's enough!" Jemma Simmons cut in and when May glanced at her, she saw tears streaming down the girl's cheeks. "He needs to rest." The biochemist's hands hovered near Ward's arms, over his shoulders, never quite touching them. "Please, Ward, you should go to your bunk and lay down. And I need to check your vitals and then I need to go and check Skye's vitals and give her medications, so let's not make this unnecessarily long, alright? Ward?"

Even if Ward was about to resist, the mention of Skye placated him. He nodded and sidestepped around his stool. He swayed. Fitz was right there to catch him and Simmons finally put her hand around his waist. Ward paused and with something like an apology on his face, twisted away from their excessive helpfulness. This was a man who valued his personal space, May had sensed that each time they had been intimate and she had appreciated that. She had wanted that. She had even thought she dictated that style of their physical encounters. It wasn't true, though, it had been Ward and May was beginning to figure out why. Someone this wary of bodily contact must have had his boundaries violated often and in a brutal way.

* * *

Ward felt his head swimming, thoughts jumbled, thrown together at random and not making any sense. He was afraid of John, of course he was but that was because John was magnificent. You can't not be afraid of someone who's larger than life. Like God he didn't believe in. Didn't believers fear His wrath? He punished the wicked, He brought floods and pestilence upon the sinners, He destroyed cities, wiped out armies...

"Just try to relax," he heard a quiet, sweet voice from a great, great distance.

Simmons's face swam into his field of vision.

"Was I talking ?"

"You were muttering." She looked concerned. "Listen, I know you're upset and anxious, but there's still quite a lot of barbiturates in your system and I wouldn't dare give you any more medications. Your blood pressure barely registers and your heart rate is all over the place. I think if you just let it, those meds will help you fall asleep. And once you're rested, maybe it will all be easier to understand."

He didn't want her to worry. He didn't want her to get hurt. Why did Coulson have to involve her in this? All of them, Fitz, Skye, so young, so brilliant, so passionate. They reminded him of... They didn't deserve to get hurt in the crossfire.

"I've got to go to see Skye."

Ward grabbed her hand, suddenly fully alert.

"Don't let her be taken to the Hub. Keep her here, take care of her here."

"Don't sit up."

"Or best yet, get away from here. Take the plane and hide some place safe. There must be such place that no one but Coulson knows."

"Ward, please." She pushed him, made him lie down and he knew it was hopeless. He had no more fight left in him. He just wanted them to be safe but he was the one who put them at risk in the first place and he had no right to feel bad about it now.

Simmons kept her hand on his shoulder for a long time but then she wasn't there anymore and Ward heard Garrett's voice. Garrett was talking with Coulson just outside his bunk. No, but Coulson was supposed to take him to the Hub, hand him over to Fury. Except that Fury used to be Garrett's S.O., Garrett and Coulson used to work together and now, apparently Garrett convinced Coulson that he was not the bad guy in all this, maybe he even told Coulson that it was all Ward, that Ward was the Clairvoyant, that he lied. He might have done it.

Ward peeked out of his bunk carefully but there was no one in sight, they must have gone some place else. Who could he turn to? May? She hated Garrett. When they talked, she appeared to really despise him and she wasn't an easy person to turn. Cockpit then. Ward went there, quietly, looking around, wary of any unexpected sounds. Slowly and soundlessly he opened the door and saw the back of her head, as usual, in the pilot seat.

"May," he whispered and she turned and... smiled at him with Garrett's mocking smile.

Grant took a step back and slammed the door shut. His heart raced but he felt cold. Where was May? Why was Garrett piloting the Bus?

He told them to take the Bus some place safe, to hide Skye but not like this, they were supposed to hide her, themselves, from Garrett, not with him. Skye... Skye was not in the med pod. The med pod was empty. Ward ran to the lab, he needed to find Simmons and Fitz and ask them where Skye was but in the lab he found Garrett again. Garrett in a lab coat and Simmons's green protective glasses on his forehead.

"Is there a problem?" Garrett asked with British accent.

Grant ran up the stairs and to Coulson's office. But instead of Coulson, he found one more Garrett there.

"You thought I would leave you? You matter too much to me. You shouldn't have betrayed me. You should wake up. Wake up, Ward!" Garrett pleaded with Fitz's voice. "Wake up now. There. You're safe, okay? You're safe. It was just a bad dream." Fitz hovered over him and Grant felt the burning, sucking void in his chest, his throat so constricted, drawing in a breath required superhuman strength. His shoulders sunk into his ribcage and his head felt like a huge, empty pumpkin, lolling from side to side. Shapes moved before his eyes, distorted, unfocused.

"He's not here," he heard someone whisper. "He's not here, is he?"

"No," Fitz spoke to him for some reason. "He's not here. He's under lock and key, like Coulson promised. They took him to the Fridge and that's where they are going to interrogate him. You don't need to worry. He's never getting out of there."

Ward looked at Fitz with disbelief and immense guilt where he should have felt relief. Fitz didn't need to know that though. Fitz's face was bright with joy and hope and faith that now things were going to turn out alright. And they probably were, for them. Grant felt relief for their sake, if Garrett would really end up locked up in the Fridge forever, then Fitz and Simmons and Skye and May and Coulson would be safe.

But he... He betrayed the only man who had ever given him a chance. How was he supposed to live with that?

* * *

t.b.c.


	7. Chapter 7

**Early Enough**  
**Chapter Seven**

* * *

_"Sometimes, reaching out and taking someone's hand is the beginning of a journey.  
At other times, it is allowing another to take yours."  
**~ Vera Nazarian, The Perpetual Calendar of Inspiration** _

* * *

Garrett's imprisonment changed everything in Ward's life. He didn't realize that immediately – he hadn't believed John would stay locked up – but as the days passed by and John was still in the Fridge, Ward begun to look around himself with new eyes.

There was hardly any pressure to begin with. No duty to fulfill, no expectations to be met. Coulson's orders were simple and precise and once fulfilled – they were no more. For the first time in his life Grant felt that he could do anything and he wouldn't find retribution for it. Well, not any-thing. But most things he wanted to do, like... sleep in. On Monday they weren't on a mission and he stayed in his bunk fifteen minutes longer than usual. The only punishment was overwhelming guilt and lack of eggs for breakfast. And more guilt, because Simmons asked if he was alright and he really didn't want anyone to worry about him.

Such leeway was awkward, foreign. At least May was still mad at him and he didn't think she would ever trust him again, what was understandable and, in a way, familiar. She was concerned, too, but she expressed it in a way Ward could deal with – curt and indifferent. The others were not so subtle. Fitz and Simmons almost coddled him, especially Simmons. She was checking up on him, "how do you feel Ward, do you need anything?" almost every hour, until Fitz told her that she was overbearing. After that she restrained herself to two times a day and every time she'd notice he was brooding. He tried to avoid her and felt bad about it later.

Fitz offered to play games. The new guy, Triplett, came onboard a few times while they were at the Hub and he joined in those games. He wasn't invading but it was more than obvious that he wanted to talk about Garrett. For the first week Ward wasn't ready for it.

Skye was treated at the Hub. Coulson ignored Ward's warning but at least he made sure she had security detail at her door at all times. Team visited her whenever they had a chance but Ward declined each time. He didn't know how to look her in the eyes – he had wanted to kill her after all.

As for Coulson himself, the man requested to talk to Ward at one point but he was so clearly uncomfortable, Ward didn't want to make things any more awkward between them. He knew how to ease someone's mind, he had practiced that on Garrett when he'd done or said things Garrett wouldn't be pleased with. It wasn't really surprising that Coulson was a lot easier to placate. After three or four such "sessions" Coulson had smiled with small satisfaction, shook Grant's hand and said that he was glad things worked out. Grant nodded, although he didn't share the sentiment at all.

He didn't know where he was, considering the team, considering Garrett. Those people had been his mission. Getting attached hadn't been a part of the plan. If he could remain uninvolved, if he hadn't been weak, he would have been able to carry out his mentor's order.

The problem was that he liked that feeling – he admitted to himself a week after Garrett's arrest. He liked being weak, he kind of liked Simmons's coddling and he was really, genuinely happy that Skye was alive. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if she hadn't been – and by his hand.

When he remembered his failure, he hated himself. When Fitz beamed, because he won at poker or Simmons made him a sandwich and he momentarily forgot – he felt almost happy.

And then he didn't know what to do with such contentment.

"I will keep experimenting until I'll find what you like best," Simmons announced, bending to pick up the unfinished sandwich.

"No," Grant grabbed her wrist and took his hand back immediately. Held the plate down. "It's good, I like it."

"Gouda, ruccola and cherry tomatoes? With a hint of vinegar?"

"It's very good."

"Then why aren't you eating?"

"I will, I'm sorry." She tried and he didn't want it to go in vain. The moment he uttered the apology, though, he realized it was a wrong thing to say.

Their eyes met and Simmons shook her head. She sat beside him and he felt more guilty than he would if Garrett had shown up. If she gave him a silent treatment, or insulted him at least, he would know what to do with it. He would have a frame. But she worried.

"That's not something you should apologize for," she said with sincere concern. "If you don't have appetite. Or even if you simply don't like it. I just wish you told me when you felt unwell."

"I feel fine." He really did. If he could compare, he had never felt better, actually. He was warm, fed, didn't have to worry whether he was going to have all that tomorrow. He was among people who weren't a threat. He could sleep peacefully and expect nothing would change in the morning. They believed him, plain and simple, they were naïve enough. The only thing disturbing in all that, was that it was so foreign.

And that it felt so good. A voice in the back of his head whispered in John's mocking tone that he was slacking, that he let his weakness get the better of him finally, that he proved to be as worthless as everyone always believed, but the more days passed and nothing bad happened, the more Grant pushed that voice out.

"It's just... I've never had that, you know," he told Simmons and her lips curved in a small smile. "Someone putting so much effort into finding out what's my favorite sandwich. I don't want to be ungrateful."

"I'll never think that. I don't want you to feel obliged to eat it though." She stood up and picked up the plate this time. "I know that I am overbearing, Fitz tells me that enough. I'll just take it away now and we'll talk about it no more."

Grant smiled and let her walk away. She probably didn't understand what he said as literally as he meant it anyway.

They knew nothing and it was better this way, of course. They didn't know about his family or about how Garrett had saved him from becoming a monster. They considered Garrett a monster and, well, after a week or so, Grant was ready to admit that Garrett's methods of finding information on Coulson's survival were wrong indeed. It's just... The man had no other choice. He was dying and no one would give him a helping hand.

In moments like this, when he remembered Garrett's suffering, all Grant could do was to punch a bag, very, very hard, repeatedly. What other way there was? If he could find a way to save Garrett without endangering Skye or Coulson or anyone else on the team, he would have done it in a heartbeat. He couldn't come up with anything though. Once, when he took up the subject with Coulson, it ended faster than it started.

"He had me tortured."

What else was he supposed to do? Grant thought but didn't ask. What else could Garrett do? Request information from Fury? Fury had left him to rot.

The only answer lay in Coulson's wiped memories and the only way to unlock those memories, was through hurting someone dear to him. Would hurting himself help? Grant wondered, did Coulson care about him enough to move heaven and earth to save him? The answer was simple – he did not. No one did, no one would care about a failure like Grant Ward.

Not even Garrett, a voice inside Grant's head whispered and no matter how hard Grant tried to believe otherwise, he had to admit that his belief that Garrett gave a damn was a false hope just as well. A hope that had helped him survive the worst, but false nonetheless.

"He had always held you in highest regard," Triplett finally spoke up during their poker night, two weeks after Skye had gotten shot, after Ward had betrayed Garrett and subsequently Trip had, too. After Garrett had gotten locked up. "And so did everyone else on Garrett's team. They told stories about you."

Grant wasn't interested. He had never been friends with other Garrett's men. Garrett would always say they'd been dumb, footsoldiers. Ward was a specialist, a spy, and that required a different skillset, some finesse, Garrett would say. "You're better than them," he'd say, "don't let their stupidity, their dumb drinking games, their moot talk about superficial movies, their incessant stories about pickup lines and sex with dumb girls ruin those skills you had honed with such dedication. Be above that." He hadn't cared what those men had thought of him and he didn't care how they were doing now. He didn't want to talk about it.

Fitz was curious though.

"What stories? Do tell!"

Trip gazed at Ward but Ward didn't react. He watched the flop on the table, consisting of an ace, a queen and a five and then at and ace and a seven in his hand. What were the odds that something better would turn? What did Trip have, that he raised?

"They said nothing would ever break him," Trip said. "That there was no interrogation technique that would make him spill the secrets."

"Yeah," Fitz grinned. "Like when we were in Ossetia, remember Ward? He had asked me all those things and I'm telling you, Trip, they were scary. I mean how can you ask a person how attached they are to their left pinky. Obviously very much!" Fitz prattled but Trip only looked at Ward.

"I call," Ward finally decided, holding Trip's gaze and adding his coins to the pot. He didn't want to talk about his past with Garrett.

Trip wiggled his eyebrows.

"They would say that's because you had close and personal experience with every interrogation technique Garrett could come up with and that man had imagination like the best of them."

There was a question there, somewhere. Grant chose to ignore it. He didn't want to remember the way Garrett trained him to hold up under torture.

"Fitz?" he pushed instead, "call or raise?"

"What? Me? Yes, raise. No! Sorry, call. What do you mean, personal?"

"I'm not sure," replied Triplett in a strangely quiet voice. "Other guys were never obvious with that, you know. All they said was that Ward was the best, because Garrett gave him additional drills. When I wanted to be treated the same way, Garrett just laughed in my face. Guys said I'd never replace Ward, not in Garrett's book."

Grant felt his stomach scrunch. Why was is so hot in here?

"We playing or not?" he asked through a clenched throat.

"Yeah. Everyone called? Here's the turn, then." Triplett laid down the next card. Another Queen. Grant had two pairs. "I think I have an idea what those extra trainings entailed now," Trip added. "I check."

"Raise."

"Call."

"Okay, I call too. All equal? Let's see the last one then." Another Queen. "I raise. Why did you let him do this?"

Grant glared at his cards and felt a trickle of sweat travel down the side of his neck. He had a full house but his hands were trembling.

After Ossetia he had thought to expand Skye's training by torture resisting methods but all they had ever done were theoretical discussions. He couldn't bring himself to take this to the next level, to give her a practical course. He thought he'd felt this way because she was so fresh, so new to this. It had been too early. Not because she was a girl – that would be insulting. Skye was tough, she'd have managed. And Garrett had always said those trainings were for Ward's own benefit. That they made him better, stronger. Why then wouldn't he want Skye to go through this? Why did he delay? Surely not because he wanted her to fail.

No, he didn't want to put her through pain. He didn't want to be the one who'd cause her that pain.

Was it selfish? Or was it caring about her? Was it a weakness?

"Ward?" Fitz asked, probably urging him to continue playing.

"I fold." Grant put away his cards, stood up and walked away, ignoring their concerned questions. Locked himself up in his bunk.

Ever since Garrett's imprisonment everything in Grant Ward's life had changed. He begun to realize that not everything his mentor had done was right. He had been cruel and selfish to Coulson. The order to shot Skye had been atrocious. But also they way he had schooled Ward, the way he had isolated him from team mates, the way he never seemed to let Ward do what he wanted most, even the little things – all of it made Grant think that maybe Garrett hadn't only saved him from hell. Maybe he had put him through another.

* * *

Saying the world got turned upside down for Skye, would be an understatement. And she had been in a-plenty of world turning circumstances, thank you very much. This one though. This one was something else.

Let's see... Two weeks ago she didn't have a hole in her stomach. Hell, she had never – despite her history as an orphan, the multitude of foster homes she's been through in her life, growing up in Saint Agnes which was located in a neighborhood that couldn't be called privileged – despite it all, she had never had to deal with guns. Not until Ward. Not until SHIELD, actually, but Ward was the personification of weapons training in her mind.

Anyway, it wasn't Ward who got her shot. But she got shot. And now, two weeks later, she still had trouble sitting up without the aid of bars on her bed and without her head spinning for a few moment at least.

And that was the least of her worries.

Beside getting shot, or actually due to that, Skye had missed the biggest crazy-feast on the Bus to date. Not that she'd be thrilled to go through that, to be honest. FitzSimmons's recount of the events was quite enough. Then there was Coulson who told her to be careful what she said in front of Ward. Coulson said that. To her. He tried to protect Ward from her running mouth, that was a first. May only said that she was glad to see her getting better and, when asked about Ward, clammed her mouth shut.

Ward himself never came. Part of Skye was glad about that, because she wasn't sure how she'd behave, what she would say. Ward had lied to them, had spied on them while – Skye remembered that very well – had the audacity to scorn her after she'd warned her boyfriend that S.H.I.E.L.D. had been onto him. How was her betrayal compared to what he had been doing all along?

She was mad at him. But she also wanted to talk to him.

He saved her life, that's what FitzSimmons told her. She didn't want to think that, then, but the notion somehow came to her mind – that in order to save her, he had to put her life at risk first.

Simmons seemed constantly worried about him. Fitz worried about Simmons but he admitted that Ward was weird. "Not like himself, you know? He used to be so stoic, like a wooden board sometimes. Now he's all over the place. Yesterday I could swear I saw his hands shaking."

"I need to see him," Skye sighed. "Do you think there's any way to lure him here? Could we think up something?"

"Oh, we haven't told you?" Simmons asked, embarrassed. "We have come to take you back to the plane now. Your doctor is filling out prescription forms as we speak and, well, I was supposed to give you this, so you could change." She put a bag of clothes on Skye's bed. "Do you need any help with that?"

Skye just looked up at her, incredulous. "I thought I wasn't to go out until tomorrow?"

"Yeah, but we got a call and Coulson says he doesn't know if it's gonna take a day or a few days and he wouldn't want you to wander around the Hub on your own and besides we might use your skills, so... he pulled a few strings and they're letting you go out earlier." Simmons smiled broadly. "You are going home!"

* * *

t.b.c.

**A/N:** Comments make me a happy writer. :)


	8. Chapter 8

Early Enough  
Chapter Eight

* * *

_"Destiny is a name often given in retrospect to choices that had dramatic consequences." _  
**~ J. K. Rowling**

* * *

"You're a fine warrior," she said.

Grant shivered. He knew what her voice could do to a man, but... nothing happened. He felt lightheaded there, for a split second and then he was fine again.

"I am," he sneered. He was. He was stronger than all his weaknesses. "So put your hands behind your back and get on your knees."

She eyed him with a mix of amusement and disdain.

"Men kneel before me." She took a step toward him, then another. Her closeness made him dizzy. "I do not bow to them."

"Gonna need some backup over here." Ward prayed that they would come quickly.

And then it stopped to matter.

"That is not what you need," Lorelei said, touching his arm and for the first time in weeks, Ward felt at peace.

He was where he belonged and he would serve her with all the devotion he possessed. And he possessed a lot.

* * *

"How could this... How could you let this happen?" Skye screamed indignant when Coulson, May and Lady Sif returned from their failed attempt at apprehending the rogue Asgardian. She didn't even have a chance to speak with Ward yet. They had passed each other briefly when she had been wheeled onto the bus, he'd nodded at her with not-quite-a-smile and sauntered upstairs in a hurry. Then Simmons had installed her in the med-pod with clear instructions to "Stay put!"

And now Ward was missing. And Skye didn't even know if she was pissed at him that he had been spying on them the entire time, or if she was grateful that he had saved her life. Because he had. He had betrayed his commanding officer to save her life. And it had obviously shaken him. And she didn't have a chance to talk to him about it.

"I don't know." Coulson looked distraught. "I thought he was ready."

"No time pointing fingers now," May interrupted.

It was true. Accusing wasn't going to help them find Ward, save him. They needed to act.

"So, Ward's what? Like, a pod person now?" Skye drilled Coulson for some tangible information.

He explained that the men Lorelei controlled didn't forget who they were or what they knew. She would just become the embodiment of all their desires. And the only way to break the spell – save from killing her, and Sif said that her king wanted her alive – was to put the collar that would render her mute, back on her neck. The problem was the collar was nicked by a shotgun blast.

Fitz had to fix it.

"What can I do?" Skye asked when the flustered engineer ran out of her med-pod, collar in hand. Coulson furrowed his brow, so she hurried with, "And don't you dare say nothing or tell me to sit down here and count ceiling tiles while Ward is missing."

He wasn't going to.

"Ward's got drop boxes and storage lockers all over the world," he informed her. "They're filled with currency, weapons, I.D.s. He's gonna use aliases, cash... anything to keep Lorelei off the radar. You're the best radar we have. Find them."

* * *

It was odd, how everything made sense now. He walked into the hotel lobby after her and waited for whatever it was she wished. He could live like this. He could be like this, living for her and following her directions. He had directions, finally, again and he was sure no one else would understand how good that felt. But it felt good. It felt right.

Lorelei was pleased with the proffered lodgings.

"I am fortunate to have found you," she said looking around the lobby. "You are quite resourceful."

"Just well trained." There was no reason for her to admire him, he was only doing his job. And he knew she didn't think too highly of him, not really. She would discard him the moment he ceased to be useful. It was alright. It was how it was supposed to be. And right now…

"No." She turned to him. "You are worlds apart from those men in the desert." Right now he was supposed to relish in her approval.

He didn't. He was glad that her wishes and desires were fulfilled but he wasn't doing it for approval. He was doing that because it was what she wanted.

"I'm not an idiot," he told her. It was as simple as that. "I know you value me no more than those bikers back there. The truth is... I don't care."

"Because of what you feel?"

That question startled him a little. What was it he felt? Absolute subordination. Familiar and safe.

"I've felt something before," he realized, "for someone on my team." John Garrett. "It seems foolish now. I would die for you. Any man would." He would have died for John, he had risked his life for John. But then he stopped, he stopped being John's faithful specialist, he turned into a traitor and then he was left without foundation, without that support that being under another person's orders gave him. With Lorelei he had it back, but...

What he felt when he was with the team, after Garrett was locked up, was something else entirely. It was good...

Lorelei closed the gap between them. "But I don't want other men," she said seductively and Grant forgot what he was just thinking. "I want you." She touched his Kevlar vest. "You're stronger... a real man with the rage of a berserker inside." Her fingers wandered to the collar of his shirt, to the skin on his neck. Her voice reverberated inside his skull. "You will present me with an army. And I will give you a gift in return."

* * *

She was the most astonishing woman alive. The embodiment of all his desires. Warm, passionate, involved. Her kiss was ecstasy and her body a temple. She made him burn with passion and she made him spent afterwards.

"The woman on your team? The one you felt something for?" Lorelei asked when they lay naked in tangled sheets, panting and exhausted. "Tell me about her."

For a moment Grant had no idea what she was asking about. He didn't feel anything for any woman on his team.

"You mean May? We only slept together. She's an ice queen, colder than the Arctic." Surprisingly he felt a pang of regret as he said those words. Of course, May was a threat and getting intimate with her provided excellent opportunity to gain her trust and just keep an eye on her but, to his surprise, Grant started to actually care about her. It was stupid. Stupid and weak. He was always weak like that, getting attached to people, even if they didn't want him.

"So who did you desire before me?" Lorelei straddled his hips, a dangerous gleam in her eyes. Grant immediately knew that she wouldn't accept defiance. "Who were you talking about down in the lobby?"

Down in the lobby? 'I've felt something before,' he remembered, 'for someone on my team.' It wasn't about desire.

"It wasn't a woman," he whispered. "His name was John Garrett."

"Oh." Lorelei's face fell. "Alright then." She shrugged and climbed off him, the pressure for further explanations disappearing from Grant's mind.

It didn't stop his thoughts from running a mile a minute now. He would give his life to John Garrett. Once. Before. Lorelei walked away and she took with her that overwhelming enchantment that directed Ward's thoughts and actions and he had nothing, again and he wished, he desperately wished to have it back. With her, or with John. He missed John. He didn't know who he was without him.

Maybe there was something he could do to get him back. Maybe he could use Lorelei to help him with that.

She stood at the window and spoke about how beautiful Earth was. And how terrible her own life, for the past six hundred years. She couldn't speak and she feared it would happen all over again. Sif was on the hunt and she would not rest. And Ward would do better if he didn't underestimate her. He did not know her.

"No. I don't." Lorelei was right. About Sif. She was wrong about everything else, though. "The people she's working with now... I know them."

He knew how they operated, what they would do, where they would go. He knew they were most likely on their track by now. He and Lorelei had to leave.

"You want armies?" he asked her. "I know a man even more worthy of leading your armies than I am. He's in the prison now, but he has many, many faithful followers. They could all be yours."

"How many?"

"Thousands. We only need to set him free." And then he could serve her and serve John. His life would be complete.

"And how do you propose we achieve that?"

Oh, this was easy. First, they would sneak onto the plane. Fitz, Trip and Coulson would be hers within seconds; Skye and Simmons didn't really pose any threat. That only left May...

"May?" Lorelei looked at him, a smile dancing on her lips. "The queen of ice? Don't worry about her. I may not be able to influence women the way I do men, but I still know how to manipulate them. I'll throw her off and you will kill her for me."

"Of course I will."

* * *

It all went according to plan. Coulson, Trip, May and Sif weren't present but this was for the better. Fitz was startled to see Ward but then, Lorelei had him placated within seconds.

"Who else is present on board?" she wanted to know.

"You should lock them up," Ward advised when they learned it was only Simmons and Skye. "They may come useful later," he explained at Lorelei's inquiring look. "Skye specializes in computers and Simmons is a biochem. She can do wonders with that stuff."

"Alright." Lorelei agreed. "After you make sure they are secure," she ordered Fitz, "come back here and wait for the others. Let us know the moment they return. Don't tell them about me – lure Sif into the holding cell." She turned to Ward. "You said it is possible to open a portal in the side of this flying machine in that room?" Grant nodded. "Then that's what we'll do."

She and Ward waited for the rest of the team in the plane's cockpit and the moment Coulson, May and Sif were back on board, she told him to take off.

"Wait until Sif is in the holding cell. Once she's gone, I shall go and retrieve her sword. It will look better in my hand." She leaned to his ear, her breath tickled the skin on his cheek. "And you will cross off anyone who stands in my way. I can count on you, can I not?"

"Of course," Grant looked up and saw her face inches from his, eyes bright, mouth half-open seductive. He moved in to kiss her and she put her finger on his lips.

"Not yet."

Fitz signaled that Sif was locked in the cell. Lorelei left and Grant opened the overhead airlock. Then he followed his ruler, because Asgardian or not, she didn't need to bother herself with the members of the team. Her goals were of higher importance.

When he walked out of the cell May was standing in front of Lorelei, lip split and sneering. She noticed him and focused her attention on him. She attempted to sway him back to their side.

"Ward, you don't want to do this." She had tried it before. Wasn't very convincing. She had no idea what he truly wanted. She never even wanted to know. He had told her – them – that he wanted to save the man he loved like a father. And they ignored him. So now, he would find another way.

"This was the plan," he uttered. "Cross off Sif, take the plane, eliminate anyone in our way." Like he should have before. Starting with Skye. "Get out of her way."

"It's her plan, not yours. Fight it. I know you. You're a fighter." What did she know? Ward wanted to jump her now and shut her mouth. Shut her up! If it was Lorelei's plan, then it was his as well. Just like it should have been with Garrett – if Garrett had planned to kill Skye, he should have obeyed.

Lorelei contained him, put a hand on his shoulder and forced him to calm down, wait. "Is this her?" she asked. "The beautiful warrior with a heart of ice?" She pulled his head down and pressed her lips to his. Now was the time. She wanted a passionate kiss and a passionate kiss he gave her. "His heart now beats in concert with mine and mine alone."

"No reason to make this about us."

"Oh. He told me who he desired before me. But, my dear... it wasn't you."

So that's what she meant by manipulating women. Melinda May seemed hesitant probably for the first time since he'd met her.

He didn't hesitate though. He had a mission and he was going to fulfill it.

* * *

May didn't want to fight Ward. She would do anything to avoid it, she begged him, tried to reason with him but this spell – seemed impossible to break. She had no choice. When he attacked her, she had to respond and defend herself.

He was brutal. They had sparred before so she knew a lot about his technique but he had restrained himself then. So had she. Now, there were no holds barred. Her ribs experienced the strength of his fists and her spine and head collided with more surfaces than she dared to count. But her fists bore scratches too and she compensated lack of strength with skill that had earned her the name and the fame.

They were equals.

When they crashed through the glass wall and Ward pointed a gun at her head, May could look down the barrel without fear, because she knew she had outsmarted him.

He wouldn't kill her – she had the magazine in her hand.

The question was – would he pull the trigger?

* * *

Grant recognized the moment the spell lifted. It was as if a veil was pulled from his brain.

And he got scared. Terrified.

Lorelei had given him purpose, had given him direction, without it, without her – who was he? How was he supposed to keep on going. First they took away John, now her.

He had a gun aimed at Melinda May's head. He was going to kill her for his ruler, for Lorelei. He could still do this. He could maybe do it, because that would eliminate the threat for John. Maybe he could escape later, find him, free him on his own.

He could claim he had done it under Lorelei's spell.

He could kill them all.

For what they did to him and John.

He could kill them all.

* * *

t.b.c.


	9. Chapter 9

**Early Enough**  
**Chapter Nine**

* * *

_"There is no failure except in no longer trying."_  
**~ Elbert Hubbard**

* * *

He had a chance to kill them all.

But he couldn't do it.

Because as much as he cared about John, he also cared about May and Simmons and Fitz and Skye. Oh, God, he cared about Skye so much he had refused to follow a direct order.

He was weak and worthless.

The gun fell from his fingers and he felt his face scrunch, his eyes sting, a sob choke him like a vicious fist inside his throat.

"You're free of the spell," Melinda's voice reached him from some distant space above. "Get up." Her fingers wrapped around his wrist and she pulled him to stand. He gave in but he barely had any strength. His head was spinning, blood roaring in his ears. "Pull yourself back together, Ward!" May seethed. "We got her."

Ward saw the silhouette of Lorelei being led out of the cell by Lady Sif, their voices muffled, indiscernible. Coulson appeared out of nowhere and he spoke with May and Lady Sif. Ward just took a step back, then another and one more. Then, finally he turned around and staggered to his bunk. He pulled the door closed, trying not to make a sound and lowered himself onto his bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the wall. He had no idea how long he sat like this, completely numb to his surroundings, with only the rhythmic thud of his own heartbeat for company.

* * *

Only after the case they were working on was resolved and Lady Sif left the Midgard, did Coulson turn to his teammate and braved to notice her split lip and a bruise forming on her cheek.

Of course Melinda being Melinda wasn't going to let him trouble himself with her mishaps

"I'll run the diagnostics," she announced, "see how much damage we're dealing with."

"How much are you dealing with?" Coulson stopped her.

Melinda shook her head, "He didn't break anything."

"Not what I meant."

She stayed silent, only glared at him and Phil couldn't quite read her. She had been in a relationship with Ward that much he had known. But then, after Skye shooting, after Garrett and after Ward admitting to having been a traitor... They didn't talk about in the aftermatch of those events, but earlier, May had promised that she would break it off, whatever was between them, if it stood in the way of doing her job. Had she? Or did she feel betrayed all over again, because of what happened between Ward and Lorelei now?

Did he even betray her? Would he, if he could decide for himself, if he wasn't under the spell of an Asgardian enchantress?

Those questions were too hard, too difficult to even contemplate.

"You should talk to him," Phil said in a low voice. Pushing it on her probably wasn't fair, but he suspected Ward would rather open up to a woman with whom he was in a relationship – he wouldn't call it love – than to his superior.

"What about you?" Melinda returned his concern and Phil furrowed his brow. What did she mean? "You are worried about something, I can see that and it was not just Lorelei or Lady Sif. You're absent. What are you thinking about?"

Phil sighed. May was too perceptive for his good. She was right, he was preoccupied with something. He had been since Skye's shooting, since Ward's reveal and Garrett's desperate search for answer.

How had he survived?

Truthfully he'd wanted to find out for a long time, Raina's interrogation woke up that craving and then Clairvoyant's … Garrett's investigation, his insistence, brought this question to the forefront of his thoughts. Phil lifted his gaze at Melinda and smiled sheepishly.

"I am thinking about Tahiti," he admitted. "I want to know what really happened there. I know this is what Garrett wants but he's not a threat anymore. He's locked away. And I need to know."

"I don't think it's a good idea." May put her hand on his and took it back as if such display of familiarity was too much. She glanced at their feet, pursed her lips and looked up again with a new determination in her eyes. "But I will help you find out the truth however I can," she declared and that was enough.

* * *

"Will you hold still for just a second, Fitz?" Jemma rebuked her friend and for once, Skye was happy the fierce biochemist-turned-medic had someone else to torment. "I swear I will tie you up if I have to."

He sat on the chair, next to Skye's bed in the med-pod, with his head tilted back and Simmons leaned over him with a cloth in her hand, dabbing at the gash on his forehead.

"Coulson was a little rough with him," Skye commented

Simmons didn't take her eyes off Fitz's face. She tsked, actually, when he started to talk, "Coulson had to knock me out. Not that I blame him..."

"Quit stirring!"

"He had every right to eliminate me out of the equation." Fitz ignored her. He kept sitting still, staring into the ceiling and the words just poured out of him. "Who knows what I would have done otherwise! I didn't know what I was doing. I mean I did know, it was the strangest feeling. I knew exactly what to do and I knew I wouldn't have done any of it under normal circumstances. This was all wrong! But I wanted it. I wanted to please her like nothing else in the world. It kind of disgusts me now that I think of it."

Skye felt her stomach twist. To be violated like this – it must have been awful. Her thoughts went out to Ward who had been under Lorelei's spell longer.

"You shouldn't beat yourself over this, Fitz," Jemma replied with such gentleness and love, Skye looked at her like she was an alien. "None of this was your fault."

"I let her get close to me."

"Not your fault either."

Skye looked up as a sudden thought occurred to her.

"It wasn't Ward's fault either," she snapped at Jemma.

"Of course not!" Jemma appeared indignant that Skye might assume she thought so and Skye felt ashamed. "Ward was under her influence just as Fitz. It was her fault, all of it."

"Do you think Ward knows it?" Skye asked and all three of them fell silent. They hadn't even seen him yet, they had no idea what he was thinking, how he felt.

Skye swung her legs over the edge of the bed and glared at Jemma, as her overprotective Brit caregiver was about to launch another tirade on how she was not supposed to overexert herself. "Don't even..." she added a growl to reinforce her determination and Jemma bit her lips and nodded.

Skye grabbed a blanket to pull it over her shoulders and, leaving the med-pod, she heard Fitz telling Jemma, "If anyone is going to get through to him, it's Skye," and then Jemma's silent, "Mhm."

* * *

It wasn't hard to find him. Grant Ward was hiding in his bunk. Skye guessed that because of a closed door. They had never been closed, before. He would leave them ajar if out and wide open when he was inside. Could better hear what was happening on the plane with the door open, he'd say, and it would take less time to get where he was needed, if such event occurred. Now there was no crack but Skye could hear fast breathing from the inside. She knocked and didn't wait for an invitation. She pushed them and they slid to the side.

Ward looked up, like a spooked rottweiler.

"Hey," Skye breathed out. "This a bad time?"

He didn't tell her to leave, so she sneaked in and pulled the door closed.

"Shouldn't you be resting?" he asked in a hoarse voice and grunted.

Skye realized that she felt a little winded, indeed, besides she must have had a bad case of bed-hair.

"I must look terrible," escaped her and she felt even worse, because she didn't come here to talk about her looks. Damn it, she hadn't seen Ward in weeks, since all of this started and all she cared about was if her hair was neat.

Ward only shrugged and said, not looking at her, "I've seen you worse."

"Wow." Skye chuckled. "Thanks."

"No." He finally looked up at her. "I mean, you look better than when you're..." he didn't finish.

"Well, you do not look so hot yourself either." Skye decided to not remain in debt to him and it earned her a minute twitch of the corner of his lips. Not quite a smile, but for Ward, and Ward in this state of mind, that was something.

She dropped onto the bed next to him, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. She didn't know what to say, how to ask him if he was doing alright. She couldn't just say it, right? This was Ward, her tough SO, T-one-thousand. He didn't do heart-to-hearts.

But at least they talked, they joked even if she was the only one who laughed. She remembered the Sci-Ops, their last mission together. Even if he'd appeared annoyed, there had been a spark. She'd been getting through to him, they all had, Jemma and Fitz too. And then everything had gone to hell in a hand basket and who was to blame for that?

"It was so stupid to go in there alone," she muttered, glancing at him sideways. If she hadn't, if she hadn't gotten herself shot, if he hadn't been placed before an impossible choice... Garrett was a bastard, but he was like a father to Ward. Skye wondered how far she would go if Coulson ordered her to do something that didn't agree with her conscience. Would she kill on his orders? She probably would kill bad guys, even if it would mess her up. She couldn't imagine what it would be like to take someone's life, even that of someone bad. And being ordered to eliminate someone you called friend? Did Ward consider her a friend?...

Ward was glaring at her.

"No point doing that now, Skye," he said in a low voice. "You were very brave. And thanks to you, Clairvoyant is no longer a threat."

She wanted to say that it wasn't just her but bit her tongue. He might not take it too well.

"Well, I- I need to better protect myself." She changed the subject. "To avoid such things happening ever again. When Simmons gives the all-clear, we'll start training?" That would be the best way to get back their relationship, whatever it was, Skye thought. Their strange bond. The only time they'd actually shared deep buried secrets of their lives, was during those boxing sessions and weapons training, between the jokes and fake-punches.

"We'll ease you back into it," Ward smiled faintly at her. Finally.

"No." Skye said with a firm resolution. "I want to train harder. I greatly appreciate that you saved me back then, but next time, I don't want to only depend on you."

* * *

She cared.

It should make him feel good, warm.

But all it did was make him feel guilty.

He messed everything up, he'd brought Lorelei to the plane and risked all of their lives. He had almost killed May, he had wanted to. For Lorelei or for Garrett, he no longer knew. It no longer mattered. He had always intended to betray them and then, somehow, he no longer could.

He was weak.

He was a danger to them.

Even if he didn't want to follow Garrett's orders anymore, even if part of him, a large part, realized that Garrett had been wrong, that the way he'd operated had hurt people – had hurt him, perhaps – Grant knew that other part of him was still there. He might revert back to his old ways of thinking any time; his encounter with Lorelei had proved that. He needed a strong hand to guide him and if someone who gained control over his actions ordered him to kill – even kill people closest to him – he would. He didn't want to, he might not want to in the future, but if someone strong-willed enough gave him orders – he would follow them.

Just like he had done a long, long time ago... he had always had this weakness, even as a child.

This weakness was not 'caring-about-people'. It was letting those stronger than him make him hurt those he cared about. His weakness was not caring enough to resist.

Skye cared, but he did not deserve it, because he would never care about her the way she cared about him.

His hand found a knife and now balanced it in his palm. The familiar weight, coldness of steel, sharpness of the blade.

He had to protect them. And if protecting them meant protecting them from himself...

Urgent knocking to his door ruptured the veil of his trance.

"Ward, are you there?" It was Coulson and his voice betrayed distress. "Meeting in the briefing room in... Now! Are you there?"

"Yeah," Ward rasped and cleared his throat. "Yes. I'm coming."

He hid the knife in its sheath.

Wiped his face but despite feeling like he cried, it was dry. He opened the door and met Coulson's anguished gaze. "What happened?"

"Garrett..." Coulson started and had to double take. "Garrett is out. Some... Someone broke him out, the guards reported a bald black man with a metallic leg, super strong. HQ thinks it was Mike Peterson. We were called in, because we dealt with him before. "

* * *

t.b.c.


	10. Chapter 10

**Early Enough**  
**Chapter Ten**

* * *

_"their heart grew cold_  
_they let their wings down"_  
~ **Sappho**, If Not, Winter: Fragments of Sappho

* * *

It took them over a week to get a trace on Garrett's whereabouts, even with Ward's knowledge of his safehouses and hiding places. He must have had a backup plan in case Ward turned on him. It stung a little when Ward realized that; he had thought his mentor trusted him. But then he realized Garrett was right to take precautions and that stung even more.

He had betrayed Garrett.

It was for a reason though and as he saw Skye's eyes grow in delight when Coulson gave her the S.H.I.L.E.D. badge, Grant felt involuntary smile tug at the corners of his lips. Maybe it was worth it.

Jemma and Fitz went forward to hug her, even May patted her on a shoulder. Then they all left and she stayed, alone in the center of the lounge, with Grant. She took two steps toward him and looked up with so much faith and trust, he felt that sting again, only this time it didn't hurt.

"Wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for my great and very patient S.O."

The praise choked him. "Yeah you would've," he managed to utter.

"No, I wouldn't," Skye breathed out. "You saved my life. Literally. I don't know if I can ever thank you enough."

"I'm no Clairvoyant," Grant found himself saying. "But I do believe some things are meant to be."

He did what he had to do. He made a choice and now he had to deal with the consequences – the good and the bad ones. He had to follow through and share everything else he knew, with his team. If there were more dangers – and he knew about a lot of them – he had to warn them.

Ward caught Coulson in his office. When he knocked on the open door to announce his presence, the boss invited him with a gesture.

"Garrett has people within Shield who would help him." Ward started right off the bat, without waiting for an inquiery. "They're high ranking people. It's like an organization within an organization."

"What are you talking about?" Coulson put away the folder he was reading and looked up, brow furrowed.

"You won't believe me." That was one of the reasons he hadn't said anything yet. Being laughed at was nothing compared to them getting hurt if he withheld the information, though, so it wasn't really that hard to decide to talk.

"Try me," Coulson spread his arms in a welcoming gesture.

"Hydra."

As could be predicted, Coulson did not believe. He didn't out right laugh, Ward had to give him credit, but the twist of his lips was patronizing.

"Hydra? Ward, Hydra was dismantled after Second World War," he explained as if Ward was a fresh recruit.

Ward only shrugged. "I figured I should tell all I know."

Coulson sighed and scratched his eyebrow, then sat on the edge of his desk.

"Well, I can certainly believe that some people might try to bring it to life," he generously agreed. "And that Garrett could be one of them. Who else do you know is in this secret organization?"

"I'm pretty certain about Agent Sitwell, Agent Brumlow, a few low key agents at the Hub. It's mostly on a need-to-know basis, the higher you are, the broader the picture and Garrett didn't exactly ask me to socialize. I will tell you if I recognize anyone. This is why I told you now, because Sitwell is here and I don't know his agenda."

"Well. Thank you. But Sitwell was just called off. By Fury. And... I don't know if we can go to Fury and tell him that Sitwell works for... Hydra." Coulson spoke the word with that special kind of stress that meant only crazies would mention it. "We need to have a proof."

"I am well aware of that. Which is why I was reluctant to reveal it even to you." Grant felt the tips of his ears burn, but he added, almost against himself, forcing the words out and forcing himself to meet Coulson's eyes. "I want you to know that you can trust me."

Coulson nodded and extended his hand without another word.

* * *

They didn't find Garrett. He tricked them yet again and substituted the Clairvoyant with a tetraplegic, unable to speak Thomas Nash – a man who had once been on SHIELD's index because of his near-psychic ability to predict people's behavior. The man, currently in an electric wheelchair, mocked them through a computer generating speech, but Ward suspected it wasn't him speaking at all. They arrested Nash and brought him to the Bus. Someone else would determine if he conspired with Garrett of if he was kidnapped against his will. Garrett was nowhere to be found.

Having secured Nash in the Bus's cell, Grant joined Jemma, Fitz, Trip and Skye in the lounge.

"No, but what did he mean?" Fitz was pacing back and forth along the table and scratching his head.

"He was just saying nonsense!" Skye erupted. "To throw us off. There are other things we should focus on, like – what the hell did they do to Mike?" She looked between Fitz and Simmons and then turned to Trip. "Do you know?"

Triplett shook his head and it did not surprise Grant. He knew, but should he talk? Before he decided, Fitz leaned to Skye and slammed both his hands on the table.

"He said a force beyond our comprehension is coming for you. And for Coulson. That you have something they want and that you will die giving it to them. And you think it's not important." He straightened up and spread his arms. He noticed Grant. "Is it not important Ward? Should we just ignore it?"

Ward shook his head. He remembered how he'd felt, like his blood froze in his veins, when he heard that. He couldn't let the man keep talking, hadn't mattered if it was Nash or Garrett himself, he'd had to shut him up. So he had shot at the computer generating speech and blown it to pieces.

It didn't bring them any closer to understanding Nash's premonition – the man acted like he was the actual Clairvoyant and they all knew for a fact it wasn't true. They wouldn't understand it either, just by talking about it over and over again.

"People at the Fridge have means to get it all from him." Jemma apparently thought the same and she tried to placate Fitz.

"Exactly." Skye backed her up. "Mike Peterson though, this is something we can and should solve. It's not just his leg or the eye implant. They did stuff to him. It's all under his skin, we saw it in the multi-spectrum overlay."

"Both those things are strange and important," Trip cut in. Apparently he understood where Fitz was coming from better than Skye or Jemma did. "And we should not focus on one and ignore the other."

Ward understood Fitz too. He'd rather they solved Nash's mystery, protected Skye. She wouldn't budge though, he knew her enough, not without finding the answer to her questions. He could provide some.

"Peterson is a subject in Project Deathlok," Ward revealed in a cold voice. "Garrett was the first one in that Project, twenty years ago. He should have died, then, but Hydra gave him a chance at surviving. Now his biomechanical parts are failing, he's dying and he thought..." his voice broke. This was not what he was supposed to tell them, at all. "I know this does not excuse what he had done to Coulson, what he ordered Ian Quinn do to Skye, but..." He shook his head. "It does not excuse him." He lost track of his own thoughts.

"Grant..." Skye stood up and placed a hand on his arm.

"I wanted to run a test on Coulson's blood sample." Jemma stood up suddenly. "Fitz, Trip, I will need your help with that."

"With what?" Fitz furrowed his brow at her. "It's a routine ana..."

She grabbed his hand. "You need to recalibrate the holotable."

Triplett simply nodded and stood up, ready to follow her out.

Grant and Skye could hear Fitz arguing that Jemma could well calibrate the holotable herself since she was in the second year of the Academy and Jemma convincing him that no one did that as well as he did, for a few moments longer, until their voices died down and the two of them were left alone.

Skye let go of Ward's arm awkwardly and returned to her seat on the couch.

Grant took the arm chair and sighed.

"You loved him, did you?" Skye asked quietly.

"Loved?" Grant wondered. "I felt something. He saved my life, saved me from myself. I owed him. Admired him. Yes, maybe it was love. I really don't know." Ward looked up to meet her eyes and shrugged. He wasn't sure she could understand if even he didn't understand himself. "I'm not a good person, Skye. I didn't tell you the whole truth, when I told you about my brother... He didn't beat up my younger brother. He made me do it. And I let him; I was afraid of him."

"Ward..."

"Garrett... He did the same. Whenever I cared about something... He would make me destroy it. I disobeyed him once..." Ward felt tears sting his eyes at the memory of what happened to Buddy, _what Garrett did to Buddy_, and he quickly blinked them away. "Twice." He realized. "You were the second time. I will never stop being afraid of what he will do to you if he ever catches you. So no, I did not love him. I love you."

"Don't." Skye shook her head and made a move like she wanted to get up and walk away, but she stayed. "Take your time, okay? You've just been through a lot, you're still going through a lot and so are all of us. There's still no rush on making big declarations. It's not like it's a good time to start anything."

Grant nodded. She was right. It didn't make his heart ache any less.

* * *

To say that Skye didn't feel anything for Grant would be a lie. She couldn't decide what she felt though. It was more than she should have felt for a Supervising Officer. It was friendship for sure, devotion, gratefulness. He saved her, literally saved her life, even if it was from himself... No, not himself, he saved her from Garrett.

But that's not when she started feeling something more than loyalty. It wasn't even when he trusted her to find Coulson, it was... When he touched the Berserker staff. Despite how he talked to her, how furious and hurtful he was, she worried about him more than she felt hurt. She worried more than she would about a colleague.

She offered to hear him out, to be a shoulder to cry on, if he needed that. Not that she thought – then or now – that he would ever cry, but maybe he really needed to. It wasn't more than that then. And now, it might have been a little more but she didn't think she was in love with Grant Ward.

She didn't want to worry about that. She was confused enough, what with everything that had happened to her in the recent weeks.

"Are you busy?" Coulson peeked his head through the door to her bunk, startling her.

"God. Do you want to give me a heart attack?" she snapped at him.

"I'm sorry if it's a wrong time. I can come back later."

"No. It's okay. What do you need?" Maybe it was about Nash, or something Garrett related. Skye was going to do her job, no matter what. Although, she thought looking at Coulson's flushed face, if it was about the job, he would be more forward.

"I got files from Fury," he admitted, sitting on the edge of her bed. "Concerning my... recovery. And I don't understand anything from them. It's like a riddle within a riddle and I don't have the key and can't solve it and I really need to know." He looked at her with such anguish, all she could do was lean closer and put a hand on his arm. She stroked it up and down, up and down. He remided her of that time he was in the machine and she begged him to come back to her.

"Maybe it would be better if you didn't know?"

"But I need to know. Raina opened that wound and it's bleeding and I can't close it again. I don't know if it's for better or for worse, but I wanted you to dig into those files. Take them to Fitz and Simmons, maybe they can decipher the medical jargon, or the references to those machines. Together, I think you can solve it. I don't know why Fury gave it to me now. He was against it for so long and now, all of a sudden, he changed his mind. But I think he took precautions. He didn't give it to me complete, maybe some pages are missing, maybe some data, but Skye, I can't ask anyone else to help me with it."

* * *

They didn't get far. In fact they didn't get anywhere. It took them two hours to even leaf through the big-ass brick of a file and the only thing Simmons said was even remotely interesting was some drug called GH-325. Fitz made a couple of calls and his buddy working in the archives at the Triskelion agreed to let them acces it throuch the echo-chamber set up in the cargo hold of the plane. It took them another half an hour of searching through files containing travel memoranda from the day Coulson was stabbed. They found data on Doctor Straiten's departure and finally located a file that was only ever opened once, by a level ten operative.

This could be it, but then again, this could be a dead end.

Of course the file was encrypted. Skye downloaded it to the Bus computer to try and decypher it later. They were almost at the Fridge and they wanted to find whatever else might be useful before they'd land. Unfortunately, that's when the contact with the Triskelion was suddenly lost.

Fitz and Simmons panicked. Coulson was upset and May was pissed off. Triplett tried to find the solution, he said there was some signal blocking all frequencies and Ward just stood, pale as a sheet, when the words "Out of the shadows, into the light" appeared on the screen in the command center.

* * *

t.b.c.


	11. Chapter 11

**Early Enough**  
**Chapter Eleven**

* * *

_"When we can't dream any longer we die."_  
**~ Emma Goldman**

* * *

As the reports were coming in, Coulson learned that the Fridge was secure. No agents of the facility were associated with Hydra – and Coulson knew for sure, because Ward gave him the frequencies Hydra used to communicate right under S.H.I.E.L.D.'s nose. How did they not see it?

Situation was much worse at the Hub. Agent Hand managed to send a note that she and a handful of faithful agents were barricaded in the command center of the Hub, but they were surrounded.

"How much fuel do we have?" Coulson inquired of May.

"Just enough to get there, if we turn around right now. If we land at the Fridge, to leave Nash there, we won't be able to get to the Hub."

"Turn around! Agent Hand, this is Phil Coulson. We're coming!" he announced on the open channel. Let Hydra know S.H.I.E.L.D. was about to fight back. More importantly, he needed to give his colleagues a reason to keep resisting.

* * *

Skye downloaded all of the Bus' data to a hard drive and encrypted it. Then they erased the plane's computers. They may have had faith in victory, but they had to be prepared for the worst and that was Hydra taking over everything. This way they at least wouldn't lay their hands on months of the team's research.

The drive, Skye thought, would be safest in Ward's hands.

"You didn't teach me how to hold up under torture yet," she said, handing him the device

Ward gripped the drive and glared at her with burning eyes.

"And I never will," he seethed. Skye thought that she needed to learn that too, at some point, but having considered his expression, she decided not to argue now.

Coulson ordered them to disable the Hub's systems in the processing center, while he and the rest of the team went to find Hand and her people

"Remember," he warned, "these agents are under orders. Use icers only.

The Hub corridors were swarmed with Hydra agents. Skye and Ward used ventilation shafts, shuts and one backdoor staircase to get as close to their destination as they could, but eventually, they had to cross an open hallway. Ward peeked through a gap in the door for a split second and Skye's heart froze, even though she barely saw anything.

"Give me your icer." Ward extended his hand and for a moment she did not understand.

"What are you gonna do?"

"Pave the way for you."

"There's like a hundred guys out there!" Skye almost raised her voice, but finished the sentence in a pressing whisper.

"Twelve," Ward replied, as if it made a difference. "Level-five foot soldiers, basic armor package, and no other way through." He looked her in the eyes. "The others are depending on us."

"But it's suicide."

He did not reply. For a long moment he just glared at her, eyes blinking, mouth opening and closing, forming words that he didn't dare voice, his breath too short, too shallow to give them sound.

Finally he turned away and looked at his hands.

"No, Skye, it's not," he gasped. "I don't want to die." He looked up again, his eyes begging her to understand, to not ask any question, to never speak of it again.

She couldn't just let it go. She couldn't just let him go out with that thought in mind.

"Remember that bar in Dublin?" She asked, placing her hand on his arm. "I offered to talk. I still do. When this is all over, maybe we can..." she hesitated. She didn't want him to misunderstand, but then, she wasn't sure where she was getting at either. "Maybe we can grab that drink, you and me?"

"Skye, what are you?..." He furrowed his brow at her in such a confused, endearing way. Even his lips twitched in a phantom of a smile. Damn, she must have been sending mixed signals.

"I'm offering to talk. Not to have sex with you." She clarified. For his sake and for her own. "You don't need to keep everything compartmentalized. You don't need to be so locked up."

And then, contradicting everything she said and everything she thought she was thinking, she leaned in and kissed him on the lips.

The kiss was quick, barely a peck, but her heart sped up so much she feared all the level-five foot soldiers in the corridor heard it.

She pushed herself away.

"Don't die," she said with a firm glare. "You hear me? Don't you dare die. You have something to live for."

This time she was not mistaken – Ward smiled. It was still small, barely a ghost on his lips, but his eyes, oh his eyes were different. Like a veil, a dark smoke on them lifted and they shone with faith and love.

He straightened up against the doorframe and nodded.

"Lock the door behind me."

* * *

"I cannot agree to that." Coulson tried to say it in a calm voice, but the way Hand furrowed her brow suggested he said it too loud, too urgently.

They won. They retook the Hub, disarmed and arrested all Hydra agents, even caught Garrett in the midst of it all, that was a surprising bonus. And now Agent Hand wanted to take him to the Fridge and Ward offered to accompany her. Coulson couldn't agree to that.

"If Ward wants to come with me, I don't see a reason to prevent him from coming," Hand said with all the authority her position now gave her.

"Sir, with all due respect..." Ward started and waited for a consent to continue. Phil nodded, once. "Sir, I want to make sure he's under guard an keep. I want to make sure it's secure this time and that he will never get away again. It is especially important now, when Hydra is out there. Please, Agent Coulson, let me go with Agent Hand."

Coulson didn't want to let Ward go. He didn't Ward anywhere near the man who, over the last five years, gained such total control over him. Not that he didn't trust Ward, but... He didn't want him to get hurt and he shouldn't have thought that, because Ward was a grown up man, well capable of taking care of himself, a level-seven agent and a top-scoring specialist. Coulson shouldn't treat him like a child and that nagging thought about lack of trust... Well, Coulson knew that he shouldn't have thought that either.

He had to put past behind him.

"Alright. But get back here as soon as you can."

He hoped Fitzsimmons and Skye wouldn't kick his ass for letting Ward go as an escort to John Garrett.

* * *

Grant hadn't seen John's face in weeks. The moment their eyes met, though, it felt like only yesterday, John told him to shoot Skye and Grant was ready to obey. He would have obeyed, he should have...

Grant averted his eyes and stared at the boots of the guard sitting in front of him. This was going to be a long flight.

Garrett didn't speak a word, he only looked, Grant felt his eyes on him constantly. Most of the time he sat still, emotions on tight lockdown, but for a split second once or twice he found himself unable to ignore the scruitiny and he lifted his eyes. Garrett's gaze was burning, hateful. He would never forgive the betrayal.

But Grant didn't want his forgiveness, he didn't need it. He had to remember that, no matter how hard it was to be in Garrett's presence and not revert to the old ways... admit to mistakes... agree with the punishment. Garrett was in no condition to inflict punishment. He was handcuffed, at gunpoint, neutralized.

"He's not telling stories now, is he?" Agent Hand asked suddenly. Grant only looked at her, unsure how to respond. She ignored him and turned to Garrett. "You know what I'm thinking? I'm thinking the icebox of the fridge is a little too comfortable for you. Maybe we should put you deeper underground. What do you think, Agent Ward?" She addressed Grant, but was still looking at Garrett. "He escaped the Fridge before, who's to say icebox would be enough to hold him in?" Now she turned. "Maybe we should consider a more permanent solution?"

She didn't say it explicitly, but Ward could read orders hidden between the lines. He knew what she meant.

The gun in his hand was a familiar weight. The coldness of steel made his heart slow down, breathing even out. It was almost like instinct. A reaction ingrained in his system through years and years of training.

Garrett trained him. Everyting he knew, everything he was – he owed to Garrett.

He couldn't just kill him.

"No!" he said, turning to Agent Hand, "I can't do that." He caught Garrett's sneer and added, looking straight at him, not at Hand. "Killing an unarmed prisoner, executing a man without a proper trial? Those are Hydra metods. And we are S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. If I learned anything from Agent Coulson, is to treat people fair."

"Coulson is an idiot," Garrett muttered and received a blow to the head, with a handle of her gun from Agent Hand.

"You never knew when to shut up," she scoffed at him. "That was a bold move," she said to Ward. "I only hope it won't come and bite you in the ass later."

Still, apparently, she gave up the idea of killing Garrett mid-flight. After all, how different would S.H.I.E.L.D. be from Hydra if they employed the tactics of their enemy? They had to remember how to be the good guys.

* * *

Though, how was being the good guys going to make them win, if their opponents wouldn't shy away from anything?

As soon as the plane landed, Grant realized something was wrong. The Fridge was on lock down, the roof empty and the door inside closed, a couple of guards behind the bulletproof glass. Hand ordered them to open and they refused.

"We have specific orders not to let anyone in without Fury's authorisation."

"What a pile of crap is this?" Hand was furious. "We have a prisoner here!" She pointed at Garrett.

The guards looked at each other and Grant could swear he saw Garrett nod. Too late he reacted, shouted at Hand to back away from the door. He reached out to pull her out of harms way the moment the door opened and the guards opened fire. Hand's men didn't have the time to react, they were dead, just like she was and Grant's heart was in his throat. The guards apparently spared him, because they weren't sure if he was back on Garrett's side or not.

He didn't know those two, must have never met them, but they obviously knew him. One still kept his gun trained on him, while the other approached Garrett and cut his cuffs.

Garrett shook his hands, restoring circulation, then glared at Ward with pure hatred.

"Lock him up some place unpleasant," he sneered and walked across Hand's body, her startled gaze trained at the bright blue skye. "And throw them off the edge."

He walked into the elevator and the door closed behind him without a sound.

Ward was left alone with the two guards who disarmed and handcuffed him. He could have – should have – resisted, freed himself, escaped. But somehow, he was unable to. The cold fear spread from his stomach and paralyzed all his muscles. Fear of what would happen, what was about to happen. He had screwed up on missions many times before and he'd always known what to expect. However, he had never tried to actually betray Garrett.

* * *

t.b.c.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:** This chapter is a little slower, but no worries, story will pick up the pace for the final stretch.

* * *

**Early Enough**  
**Chapter Twelve**

* * *

_"The worst time to feel alone is when you're in a crowd"_  
**~Anthony Horovitz**

* * *

Garrett kept him in the dark room with no windows and no fresh air, but Grant's internal clock was so precise he knew exactly how many days he was kept there before anyone brought him food and water (three) and before anyone showed up (one more).

Anyone – was Garrett himself. Grant could tell by his smell alone – Garrett hadn't said a word.

And then Grant recognized Garrett's fists.

Garrett beat him half-conscious and left writhing in pain on the cold floor.

He returned an hour later and repeated the procedure.

And another hour later.

And one more.

Seventeen times.

On the sixth day he turned on the light – so bright it tore through squinted eyelids right into the pain centers of the brain – and sat in a chair he brought with himself.

"What were you thinking, Grant," he said with sadness. "I trusted you."

Grant didn't respond.

"At least you didn't kill me and that makes me believe there's something worth fighting for left in you." Garrett pulled out a black flat cuboid that Grant recognized as the hard drive Skye had given him. She said he would better hold out under torture. "What is it?" Garrett asked.

Grant closed his eyes. He wasn't supposed to tell. He wouldn't tell.

* * *

He told.

It took three more days of being awakened every hour for ten minutes of various experiments. Cold, heat, waterboarding, electroshocks, darkness, light, Garrett had a very diverse repertoire of tortures and Grant recognized that neither of those he ordered was meant to kill, or permanently damage him. Garrett didn't want to hurt him beyond repair. Even the beating, he would stop right before crossing the line.

Maybe he didn't want to hurt Grant at all. He stopped actively participating in all those procedures after the initial pounding; others were coming to do the job. He would show up every now and again, afterward, to check on Grant.

He was more and more concerned.

More and more worried.

"I really wish we didn't have to do this." He bent on one knee, on the ninth day, and gently stroke sweat-soaked hair off his former protege's forehead. "I miss you, Grant. I want you by my side, like before, when I could trust you. But you aren't even trying. If you want my trust back, you have to give me something."

At this point – Grant wanted.

"It's a hard drive," he rasped.

Garrett flicked his hands and stood up.

"That much we figured." He shook his head with contempt. "You're of no use."

"No, wait!" Grant threw himself and grabbed Garrett's leg. "I know what's on it. It's all the data, all the research the team had made." Garrett stopped, looked down at Grant and didn't kick him away. He waited. "It's encrypted," Grant revealed and braced himself for a kick that didn't come. He dared to look up. "Skye encrypted it. I can get her to open it and bring you all the data. They had found something about Coulson's resurrection. It's on the drive."

"Skye is your weakness."

"Not anymore."

"I'm sorry. I can't trust you when it comes to her."

Garrett freed his leg and walked to the door, leaving Grant heartbroken and desolate.

But before he left, he changed his mind.

"I will let you go," he said and Grant's heart sped up. "I will allow you to prove to me that I can count on you again. But I must have an insurance policy. You will not go alone; Deathlok will be monitoring your every move and if you try something stupid, Skye will die and you will be brought back here."

* * *

The way they all gathered around him, how they worried and cared and asked about his wellbeing... It hurt. It almost made him feel like he should tell them everything. It made him want their friendship. It made him weak.

"What happened then?" they asked. They wanted to know how he ended up so battered and bruised.

"By the time we got to the Fridge, it was too late. It was overrun... Hydra everywhere. We couldn't stop them." He didn't lie.

"What were they after?"

"Everything. They took weapons, alien artifacts... anything they could grab. They let out the prisoners."

"We know," Coulson said in a gravely voice. "We've just returned from Philadelphia, where one of them..." he paused, lips pursed, head hung low, glaring at Ward from under his brow.

"And Garrett?" Fitz averted their attention from whatever made Coulson so upset. "Did he get away?"

"He captured me, kept me in one of the Fridge holding cells for a week, but finally – I escaped. And took Garrett down on the way."

"Is he the one that did this to you?"

The truth. Grant was only telling the truth.

This one hurt more than the beating itself. He nodded worlessly.

"You're all set," Simmons announced in a voice laced with unshed tears. Grant could tell that as soon as she could be alone, she would break down and he wanted to tell her that he was going to be alright. That they were all going to be alright.

But he couldn't. They were not going to be alright and he was the one who was going to cause them harm, he was going to take Skye and bring her to Garrett, because that was what Garrett had ordered. They were all going to worry about her and about him, even though he did not deserve it, and then they would realize that he had betrayed them, once again, and then they would feel hurt. They were not going to be okay.

"Your body needs time to heal," Simmons kept talking. "Please take some time."

"Understood," Grant choked out. "Thanks."

"Good. Let him rest then." Coulson summed up the meeting. "We need to further work on a threat asessment, Skye."

"Sir?"

"We need to take another look at that list of the Fridge inmates. See who else we need to intercept."

"Hey, wait," Grant called after them. He hesitated. He didn't want to go there, but he couldn't stall any longer. "One small victory. Hydra didn't get their hands on this."

"The hard drive!" Skye grabbed it from Ward's hands and turned to Coulson, excited. "We can get back to the research on your resurrection."

"I don't know if that's important right now."

"It might be." Simmons came up to them. "There's always a risk Hydra will be interested in this and can you imagine what happens if they lay their hands on such technology? They would be literally invincible."

Coulson spared it a though.

"Good, you and Fitz, keep working on this, Skye, I still want you on a threat asessment. Ward, you go and get some rest."

* * *

"We have to do something." Jemma couldn't focus on the numbers in front of her. Either way, decipering encoded files was not her area of expertise, it was Fitz's and Skye's.

Hers was biochemical reactions and lately, too often, the wellbeing of her friends.

"I am doing something," Fitz muttered, glaring at the coding. "We need to get Skye on this."

"We sure do," Jemma agreed, having something entirely different on mind.

When Skye came into the lab, slightly annoyed, because Coulson was on her ass and she didn't have time to spare, they attacked her simultanously.

"I'm an engineer, not a hacker!" Fitz waved his hands at the virtual numbers hovering above the holotable, while Jemma only muttered, "Ward is not himself."

Skye glared at Fitz, then at Simmons, then back at Fitz and said, "Yeah, I noticed that too."

"Good!" Fitz clapped. "Does that mean you'll help with this?"

Jemma only bit her lips.

"What are you thinking?" Skye asked Jemma.

"I'm thinking that this coding system..." Fitz started, but when he finally noticed Jemma speaking over him, but on an entirely different subject, he clammed his mouth shut.

"I'm afraid he is lying to us, Skye." Jemma revealed her suspicions and Skye nodded.

"The killing of Garrett, right?"

"And how he escaped. Those injuries..."

"I think he wasn't lying that Garrett did this to him, though."

"True, I had exactly the same thought. But he's alive."

"And he sent Grant back here."

"But why?"

"To get to us? To get from us what he always wanted?" They both turned to the hovering numbers. The resurrection drug research.

"It is not an encryption," Fitz said tapping his nose. Then he made a couple of gestures, flipped the numbers around, spread them and to their great astonishemnt, the numbers revealed a threedimentional picture of a landscape, the valley, the mountains in the background.

"We should destroy it," Jemma breathed out.

"Or we could use it to lure Garrett to us and destroy him," said Skye.

"I hope you know what you're doing." Both Fitz and Simmons obviously shared the sentiment.

* * *

Skye didn't know what she was doing. But she got Coulson to agree to go to the secret base – the Guest House – that Fitz had finally located. Coulson had May and Triplett to devise a plan for the whole operation and those two did know what they were doing.

First thing was to get to the Guest House fast and not tell anything about it to Ward, so he would not inform Garrett about their findings. Once they had their hands on the research, they would tell Ward all about it and where they were headed to further work on the data they would have discovered. He would rely the information to Garrett and that's how they would lure Garrett into a trap.

But not before they, themselves, had whatever there was, in their posession. That was the most important part, the success of the entire operation hinged on keeping it from Ward.

First of all Simmons made sure that he was resting in the Bus's med-pod. She attached as many unnecessary and uncomfortable tubes and cords and wires as she dared without making him suspicious or too annoyed. Skye assisted, and kept telling him that if she had to endure all that after her shooting, so should he, after being tortured by that monster for days.

Grant only hung his head and pursed his lips.

Skye thought she went too far in denigrating Garrett.

Fitz wasn't allowed anywhere near, because he would just spill his guts faster than they could say "Guest House" and Triplett checked all Ward's equipment. Nothing looked like it could be used for secret communication between Ward and Garrett.

"They probably have a system of drop-boxes," he said finally. "He'll only use it when he has a message to rely so let's make sure he has it when we want him to have it, alright?"

May, with Skye's help, tried to find out the way to get into the Guest House but there was no information whatsoever in any of the SHIELD databases, that were currently all over the internet. In the end, the Cavalry decided to improvise.

And then they found out that they weren't going to even do that...

The Guest House base was wide open and unprotected on the surface. May took Trip as her backup, Simmons – because of her knowledge of biological and chemical substances and Fitz – because of his skills in getting into inaccessible places. Skye stayed on the plane, because she might help – with whatever computer trouble they might encounter – via radio, besides she had to keep an eye on Ward and Coulson stayed, because May insisted that he didn't need to see those things himself. They might make him relive his trauma and she wanted to spare him that.

When the team descended ten levels below the ground, they found a room that bore no signs of a struggle, save for two corpses of the guards, shot at close range from a pistol. Whatever went down here, couldn't have happened more than a day ago, because the bodies didn't start decomposing yet.

People who had come here before them were searching for something, but obviously, they didn't know what that was. The guard room was untouched, but labs were destroyed, ransacked, shelves overthrown, papers on the floor and everywhere, tubes broken, equipment ruined.

They came too late.

"We're going back," May ordered in her usual indifferent voice, but inside, she warred with herself.

Part of her was glad that Coulson's secret was still safe, but the other, larger part worried what the assailants had found and how dangerous it was. And who they were? Hydra most likely, but was it Garrett? Or was it someone else entirely?

"Wait a minute?" Fitz stalled in one of the rooms. "This machine is still working. There's something dripping into it... From..." He tried to push away a huge and obviously heavy set of boxes and Trip ran to give him a hand.

When they took them away, they found the door with a big, bold writing on them:

T.A.H.I.T.I.

* * *

t.b.c.


	13. Chapter 13

**Early Enough  
****Chapter Thirteen**

* * *

_"For where no hope is left, is left no fear"_  
**~John Milton**

* * *

The communication with the away team was lost when they were between sixth and seventh level below ground. Coulson tried to not be worried about them. May was in the lead and he trusted May. All he could do was sit and wait and listen to the comms and glare at the monitors.

He saw Skye come into Ward's med-pod again. She sat next to him, put her laptop on his bed, as she intended to work and keep him company.

* * *

"Bored out of your ass?" Skye asked in an amused voice.

Grant was far from amused.

"I am not bored." He sat suddenly, startling Skye. "I should be out there." He started pulling the tubes from his arms.

"Whoa!" Skye stood up and walked around the bed. She put a hand on his forearm and felt it tremble. "Easy there, Wall-E."

"Wall-E?" Ward stopped fighting medical equipment and glanced at her from under a furrowed brow.

At least she caught his attention, even if at an expense of making a fool of herself.

"Wall-E, yeah. That's a… robot. I have this thing with calling you robot names, right?" Ward still looked at her, dumbfounded and she wasn't sure if it was because he didn't know this movie, or because he thought this robot didn't fit him at all. Except in kind of did. "A small robot with a big heart?" she tried and bit her lower lip.

Ward sighed, arms sagged. "I should be out there," he repeated but with less urgency and more resigned wistfulness.

"Look, you need time to heal. I know you're worried about them, you want to protect them. But they have May and Trip and… what?" She paused and made a double take at his expression. His gaze was burning, pupils blown, irises so dark they were almost black.

"I am not..." he choked out and turned his face away from her.

"You're not worried?" Skye whispered, knowing very well this was not true. He tried to pretend he did not care about them and she knew it was because Garrett made him believe that somehow he was wrong getting attached to people. Garrett made him remember the lessons he had taught him before. She knew it, but how was she supposed to get through to him without revealing what she suspected. "I know you care about them, Ward," she added, helpless.

"It's weakness," he replied like an automaton.

Skye felt tears prickle at her eyes.

She still held his forearm. She glared down at her own fingers resting against his skin – avoided his gaze; didn't want him to catch her crying. His other hand slowly lifted, moved up in the air and hesitated for a heartbeat before it covered hers.

"Specialists don't spend time with a lot of people," he spoke in a low voice. "The ones we do, we're all cut from the same cloth."

Skye dared a glance up and saw warmth in his eyes that she missed so bad.

"Black kevlar?" she uttered a joke.

He didn't catch on. "Trained to get the job done," he explained. "Keep emotions in check. But you guys. You especially Skye, you are different."

"Different bad?"

"Bad for me. I didn't want to think about you. I wanted to stay focused. And then I saw you after you were shot... fighting to stay alive... But you're right. I'm kevlar. You're not."

"You don't have to be." She latched onto it. Grabbed his hand in both hers, clutched it. "You don't have to shut people out." If he only gave a sign that he wanted an out, if he only admitted, even a little bit, that he was here on Garrett's orders, she would tell him that she knew and that she would help. She wanted to help him so bad.

But he didn't want her help.

"Yeah, I do, Skye," he said and pulled his hand from hers. "I am not a good man."

* * *

Coulson wondered what they talked about. He wouldn't eavesdrop, but he really wanted to know if Skye could get through to Ward. It would be the easiest if he was in on their plan, if he would send the message to Garrett himself and then helped to capture him.

Telling him, though, was too much of a risk. They had to treat him as the enemy, like he treated them, no matter how much it broke all their hearts.

There was a movement on one of the other monitors.

Coulson turned to it and there, in the middle of the cargo hold of the plane, between Lola and the SUV, stood no one else but Mike Peterson. Deathlok himself.

* * *

"Yes," Skye put all of her conviction into this one syllable. Three syllables. "You are."

"Hush!" Ward lifted a finger to his mouth. That's when she heard it too – rhythmic thumping, getting louder, and accompanied by sound of hydraulics.

She'd heard it before...

"Mike..." she managed to whisper, before she realized he was right there.

Right outside the med-pod.

She turned around and saw his scarred face, dead eyes.

"Garrett says the time is up," he spoke, directly to Ward.

* * *

Blood froze in Ward's veins. Deathlok was watching his every move – that much he had known. Now Deathlok revealed himself to Skye. He used Garrett's name. Skye now knew he was taking orders from Garrett. She would never forgive him...

But Skye stood in front of Deathlok, between him and Ward, arms squared, fists clenched.

"Mike..." she breathed out and cleared her throat. "Mike," she repeated in a stronger voice. "Please. I know you don't want to do this."

Deathlok eyes left Ward's face and turned to acknowledge her.

"It's not up to me," he replied and there was some emotion in his voice, thickly veiled. Regret.

"Yes, it is." Skye was nothing if not stubborn. "Yes it is, you're still you, deep inside, it doesn't matter what he did to you. You're still Mike Peterson. You're still a father. You have a son."

"Who I left in your hands. I asked you to look after him, Skye. Where is he now?"

"He's with his aunt, under the protection of a S.H.I.E.L.D. team."

"And what is S.H.I.E.L.D. today? Hydra can hurt my son anytime they want, and if I get any funny ideas about rescuing him, they push a little button and blow a hole in my skull."

"Fitz-Simmons will figure out a way..."

"No. There's no way out of this, Skye." He looked at Ward again. "Garrett knew you had a soft spot for Skye and she might take advantage of it."

"She didn't," Ward denied, his lips numb. He stood up on shaky legs.

"Then why isn't the plane in the air yet?" Deathlok cocked his head to the side, stepped back, out of the med pod, looked to his left, lifted his arm and fired. They heard a strangled moan and a thud.

"Coulson," Skye whispered.

She turned to Ward and whispered, frantically, looking into his eyes, "We can get out of this. Grant, I know, I have known, we all have. But we trust you. We need you to help us and we will find a way out of all this. But you have to trust us. You have to trust me."

Ward looked up from Skye's earnest face to meet Deathlok's – Mike Peterson's – hard eyes.

"Garrett orders you to go to the cockpit and start the engine. Bring Skye to him. Now."

His heart was beating so fast it could leap out of his chest. Ward swallowed and tried to say that he would not.

"Do you need an incentive?" Peterson asked and lifted his hand. His face was twisted by a grimace of pain and disgust and hatred for a brief blink-and-you-miss-it moment, then he schooled his features. "I am sorry," he said to Skye and fired.

"What?..." Grant choked out as she stumbled and fell backwards into his arms, clutching at her chest and gasping for breath. "What did you do?" he roared.

"Stopped her heart."

"Her heart..."

"Isn't beating. She's having a heart attack. I can restart it or not. It's your choice."

"Grant..." Skye gasped, reaching out, trying to grab his shirt.

"Bring her back. I'll do it, okay? I'll do it! Now bring her back!"

"Go to the cockpit and start the plane. Once we're up in the air, I'll bring her back."

There was no other choice. Grant had always known that, there was no other choice. He faltered, he let Skye's words get to him, false hope, fake trust. There was never any way out of this and now she was dying. Because he faltered.

He pulled himself up the ladder in one motion, ran through the corridor and into the cockpit. Flicked the switches and pushed the buttons with shaking hands.

The engines roared to life, graphs lit up. He pulled the shifters, switching to the vertical engines and took the plane up in the air.

"Now bring her back," he whispered into the air, feeling tears stream down his face. "Please, bring her back."

Garrett was right. Skye was his weakness. He could not renounce her any more.

* * *

Peterson grazed his arm. Coulson moaned harder than was necessary and threw some precious equipment from Fitzsimmons's lab table, but he hoped that it served as a diversion. That Peterson would believe he had fallen.

Then, as quietly as he could, a gun in his hands, he proceeded down the corridor. He heard Ward's screams and Peterson's threats and he knew something bad happened to Skye. When he peaked into the med-pod he found her lying on the floor, pale, lifeless and Mike Peterson leaning over her, whispering apologies.

"Hang on, just hang on. I will get you back once I get the order. But I have to wait for the order, you must understand, Skye. I am so sorry." Peterson stroke Skye's hair.

Coulson could shoot him right then and there, Deathlok, the human-machine, was so focused on Skye, he didn't notice his presence at all. But he was not Deathlok now, was he? Human-machine hybrid was part human. He was part Mike Peterson and all he was doing, was because of the machine implants in his body. The bomb in his eye.

Looking around for a better solution, Coulson noticed a heavy iron rod on the floor. He grabbed it and swiped Mike Peterson upside his head.

Then he had to move him away from Skye's body and he reached to check her pulse. She had a strange, round, red-glowing object attached to her chest, but her heart wasn't beating.

* * *

Ward set an auto pilot and climbed right back down to the med-pod to check if Deathlok did good on his promise. He found the cyborg unconscious on the floor and Coulson performing CPR on equally unconscious Skye.

"What did you do?" he assaulted Coulson. "He was supposed to bring her back!"

"Apparently he was waiting for orders from Garrett," Coulson seethed, not stopping CPR. "It took a tad too long for my patience."

"He's got..." Ward searched frantically for the device. Tried to activate it and it gave a small impulse but not enough to restart Skye's heart.

"Ouch!" Coulson shrieked. "That kicks."

"Clear." Ward tried again, once Coulson stepped away from Skye. It still was not enough.

"He's waking," Coulson warned.

There was no way out of this.

"Take her," Coulson ordered and pushed Ward toward Skye's still form. So still, so lifeless. He fumbled with Deathlock's arm but Ward didn't notice what he was doing, transfixed by Skye's blue lips and sheet-white face. "Take her, Ward!" Coulson yelled again. "Snap out and let's go!"

"Where?"

"I have an idea."

Reluctantly, Ward lifted Skye's prone body in his arms. She was so light, so fragile. Coulson told him to put her in Lola and strap her and himself up in the back seat. He initiated the opening of the ramp and jumped behind the wheel.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"You'll see!" Despite the grim situation, Coulson grinned at him with unconcealed pride and started the engine.

The fall was terrifying. Wind screamed in Ward's ears, Skye's hair flew all around him, getting into his mouth and nostrils and it was hard to breathe but finally they touched the ground in a surprisingly soft and gentle manner.

"Didn't think she could do that?" Coulson asked but truthfully? It did not matter.

"Skye's heart is still not beating."

"I know." Coulson jumped out of the car and opened the hood of the car. "That's why I got this. Put her down here."

Ward didn't really care what Coulson was doing, as long as it would work. A few moments later Coulson activated the device and sent a bolt of electricity through Skye's body. She arched and fell to the ground. Ward pressed his ear to her chest.

"Nothing…"

"Again." Coulson sent another bolt through her.

"I have heartbeat!" Grant screamed. "Skye." He held her head in both his palms and whispered to her, begged her to wake up.

She didn't.

He patted her face, begged some more, kissed her cheeks and cried all over her body, but she would not open her eyes.

"How long was she out?" Coulson asked in a dull voice.

Ward didn't know. He didn't know if it was a minute or four minutes, or ten. He wailed and cried and begged her. He cursed Garrett and the world, and his life, and he wouldn't believe she might never wake up, she might never be the same.

He needed her.

She promised him a way out of this and without her, he didn't even want to have one.

He needed her.

* * *

t.b.c.


	14. Chapter 14

**Early Enough  
****Chapter Fourteen**

* * *

"Forgetfulness of your real nature is true death; remembrance of it is rebirth"  
**~Ramana Maharshi**

* * *

When May emerged from the underground bunker into the bright sunlit expanse, she thought she was having optical hallucinations. In a place where her Bus was supposed to stand, she saw a red car.

Was it Lola?

Next to it she saw a man who was undeniably Coulson, hugging another man she couldn't see quite clearly but it must have been Ward and they were both leaning over something on the ground. As she and the others approached the group she could first hear sobbing and then recognized the person on the ground as Skye.

Then she broke into a run.

In a few words – while Simmons was frantically checking her pulse and breathing rate and blood pressure – Coulson explained what had happened.

"I don't have any equipment." Simmons spread her hands. "I can't do anything. I can't even check her brain functions." She broke into tears. Triplett touched her arm and she leaned into his embrace, while Fitz awkwardly patted her other shoulder. "She could be brain dead, or we might still save her if we had the equipment, but without it I can't do anything. There's nothing I can do!" She sobbed.

May felt chills running up and down her spine. Ward sat motionless on the ground, Skye's head in his lap, his fingers buried in her hair. He didn't make a sound, appeared to be as near death as the girl. Meanwhile Coulson looked like he wanted to punch someone. He paced back and forth muttering, "I thought we would make it. I thought we had time."

Jemma followed him with her eyes for a moment, then suddenly sat up straighter. "Fitz!" She turned to her friend. "You have that vial, don't you?"

May's heart skipped a beat when she realized what Jemma meant. "That's not a good idea," she warned, but Fitz was already rummaging in his backpack.

"What is she talking about?" asked Coulson and Fitz and Simmons started explaining like they really shared one brain.

"The substance that healed you, sir."

"The GH325."

"We found it."

"It was in the bunker just like we thought."

"And we could use it?"

"Yes. Yes, we could. We could use it now to save Skye."

"I think it would work."

"I'm sure of it."

"Yeah. Positive."

"Wait a minute," May couldn't just let them experiment with the substance that, for all they knew, was of alien origin. It was enough what they saw down there. How could Fitz and Simmons want to take such risk? "We don't even know what that substance is."

"Whatever it is," Grant spoke for the first time and May didn't recognize his voice. "It won't make her any worse than she already is. Where is that thing?"

Fitz produced a vial from his backpack and Simmons turned to her emergency med-kit and found a syringe.

"Do it!" ordered Coulson.

All May could do was watch as they injected this girl, this innocent unaware girl, with a dark, bluish substance, that could do unfathomable hurt to her.

Then they all watched as Skye's body arched, she wheezed and grunted and cried out and struggled some more, to finally fall back and only whimper a little.

"Skye?" Ward asked in a shaking voice and she groaned and turned her head to the side. She blinked a couple of times and finally opened her eyes to meet his.

"Ward?" she croaked. "What the hell happened? Did I hit my head?"

* * *

Skye was alright. They took her down to the labs inside the mountain and Simmons ran all the tests she could think of. Ward didn't leave her side.

Meanwhile May didn't leave Coulson's side and she didn't let him wander around the facility.

Eventually they decided they had to leave the place and best – destroy it. Triplett found numerous explosives planted everywhere, in each room. Peterson hadn't returned with the Bus and they assumed that he had taken the plane and the research they had on it, back to Garrett. It was only a matter of time before Garrett would show up here with an army. Best they could do, was to not let him find anything. Whoever had been here before them probably hadn't found anything either, at least that's what May assured Coulson about.

"If they hadn't found that substance, whatever they had found, really doesn't matter," she said.

Simmons protested for a moment, that they should take more of GH325 with them, that this might be a miracle drug and Coulson was in agreement with her. Unfortunately a few words whispered by May straight into the biochemist ear made her change her mind.

Coulson hated that they kept things from him. He didn't speak to May for two days straight after that.

They searched for Garrett. Ward revealed everything he could possibly know. He also told Skye his life story and when she relied it to Coulson – especially the part how Garrett took a fifteen years old delinquent, lost and confused about his life and deeds, and isolated him for the next five years, after which he just had him enroll into S.H.I.E.L.D. academy – Coulson couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe how SHIELD could overlook inconsistencies in Ward's files, because there had to be some. How they let him pass psych evaluations. This was mind boggling. Ten years and nobody noticed anything. Garrett had everyone, from the recruitment committee, through doctors and councilors, to the students' supervisors, under his thumb.

He wasn't getting out of this now, though.

Traffic in the comms and Skye's unrivaled hacking skills finally let them find Garrett's hideout and they also learned that he intended to broker some big deal with the military. They weren't going to let him. They were coming for him. And they had an ace up their sleeve – again thanks to Skye's hacking skills. She'd been watching Garrett through Mike Peterson's eye implant for a few days now and just recently sending messages to him, preparing him to act as soon as they would have recovered his son.

"We'll only get one shot at this." Coulson prepped them one final time, while on their way to Garrett's secret base. "So, let's go over the plan one more time to make sure we're clear on exactly what we're doing, okay? Ward and I will crest the ridge, use a noisemaker to grab a three-wheel, maybe something with more fireworks, and open a window for you three. You crawl in, grab the dealer, force his hand. He'll get us our ace in the hole, and then bob's your uncle." He tried to make it light, when it was everything but.

"Makes it sound easy." Triplett joked and winked at Ward.

May was less cheerful.

"Coulson, it's a solid plan you've mapped out, but it hinges on a gamble. A big one."

"And backup isn't coming. It'll be just the five of us. We'll be outmanned and outgunned. But Fury always said... a man can accomplish anything when he realizes he's a part of something bigger. A team of people who share that conviction can change the world.

"Is that how it went?" Grant asked.

"What do you mean?"

"Garrett used to say that. But he quoted it like, a man can accomplish anything when he realizes he is something bigger. Not that he's _a part_ of something bigger. That changes the whole meaning."

"Yes it does." Coulson smiled with pride and a tinge of sadness. If he was the one to take this boy under his wings all those fifteen years ago. How different would his life be? His life could still be different – the rest of it. He was going to make sure of it. "So, what do you say? You ready to change the world?"

Ward was ready to get to Garrett. That was all he cared about right now. Coulson devised the plan specifically to keep him away from the main action though. He feared that Grant was emotionally compromised and chose to have Mike Peterson kill his oppressor.

Of course things, as per usual, didn't quite go according to plan.

Oh, Ward and Coulson, using the noisemaker from Triplett's grandfather's collection of handy tools, got the humvee and stormed the compound. May, Trip and Skye got in and threatened the soldiers' handler, who switched them to a default directive – to protect Garrett at all cost. All but one, who was near him anyway – Mike Peterson.

When the soldiers moved away, Coulson followed them and Ward...

Followed Coulson.

He was supposed to wait in the humvee, but even that was not what went wrong with the plan. What went wrong was that Skye was late with neutralizing the threat to Mike Peterson's kid. As a result Mike Peterson was still only responding to Garrett's orders, when Coulson found them.

Ward approached the cargo bay just in the right moment to see Phil Coulson fly into the air and hear him land somewhere out of his field of vision, with a heavy thud. Garrett stood in the middle of the room, watching the scene with a mixture of bitterness and satisfaction. He hadn't yet noticed Ward, who hid behind the doorframe.

He could shoot right now. While Deathlok was occupied with Coulson and Garrett wasn't paying attention. He could aim and shoot. He knew where he would cause most damage, right under the metal plate in Garrett's side. He knew exactly how far it reached

He braced himself and looked from around the corner, but he was too late. Peterson was at Garretts side and he saw Ward. Garrett turned as well, maybe he noticed the movement, or Peterson clued him in somehow. Ward stood, with his gun aimed at Garrett, but he could not shoot.

"Ah, there you are," Garrett sneered. "What?" He gestured at the gun it Ward's hands. "You're not gonna kill me. You had a chance to kill me before and you couldn't do it. And you hate me. I know that you do."

"I feel sorry for you." Grant found himself speaking. "Betrayed by the organization you trusted, by the people who were like a family to you. They let you down and your life became all about revenge. But you know what? You shouldn't have used other people to mete out your revenge for you. You used me." He felt something choke deep inside his throat and he had to take a moment. "My family tore me down and then you took me, left me in those woods and you built me back up, the way you wanted. You made me into a weapon. Your weapon. But not anymore."

"You think you're so clever?" Garrett spread his arms, head cocked to the side, his tone mocking. "You won't be able to do a thing. Deathlok here," he wagged a finger at Peterson standing right behind, "will disarm you even before you're able to think about shooting me. The only reason I'm not telling him to take you down right now, is because I know how weak you are."

"You're right, John. I am weak. Have always been. I have always cared about people. I cared about you, I took care of you like you were my father, I would do anything you told me to do. But then I realized I cared about someone else and you know what happened? She cared about me too, they all did." It was a lost cause. Ward knew he was at the end of his line. Garrett was right, Peterson's perception and reflexes couldn't be rivaled by anything human. The cybernetic soldier would see a minute change in Ward's expression, a twist of his muscles before he would squeeze the trigger and he would shoot. Faster than Ward. He would still risk it. He was going to risk it, he just had to talk and not betray his intention and then, the chance of him dying simultanously with Garrett, were bigger. All he could do was to make sure that his team was safe. His new found family. "That phrase you used to say," he reminded, "Fury's one-man speech, remember? You always told me that a man can accomplish anything when he realizes he's something bigger. That's not how it went, John. A man can accomplish anything when he realizes he's _a part_ of something bigger. _A part_. I am a part of Coulson's team now. And I can accomplish my goal."

He squeezed the trigger.

He heard a shot, felt the discharge reverberate through his arms and shoulders and chest.

He expected another shot, pain as it seared through his body...

But it never came.

Garrett fell to the floor without a sound, killed in an instant, a bloody dot between his eyes.

Peterson stood next to him, tears streaming down his face, hands hung loosely at his sides. He nodded, face contorted in anguish that soon turned into a smile. He nodded.

"Skye got to Ace," he uttered. "Just now."

They were all safe.

* * *

t.b.c.


	15. Epilogue

**Early Enough  
****Epilogue**

* * *

As it turned out, Coulson was only mildly scarred by his encounter with Deathlok. Being thrown across the room resulted in a few cuts and bruises, nothing broken, not even a concussion.

The whole operation had larger repercussions though – a few days later they had a surprise visit from someone they had thought dead. Obviously, It was not so easy to kill Directory Fury.

Coulson and May locked themselves up with the Director in Coulson's office and the rest of the team heard yelling and shouting for quite a while, when Coulson was telling Fury about all his doubts and frustrations. Then he fell silent and that worried the team even more. The silence didn't last long though, not nearly as long as the shouting had before. Fury descended from the stairs, stopped at the bottom to salute them all, smirked and went away without a word. Coulson and May joined their team shortly after, Coulson turning a small cubic in his fingers.

"Fury transferred the responsibility for rebuilding S.H.I.E.L.D. onto me," he said in a flat tone, gazing from one of them to another. Then he glanced at the cube again, turned it around once more. "And I am going to do it," he announced with more conviction. "When you want to build something, you need a strong foundation and you – all of you," he spread his arm as if he wanted to encompass them all, "You all are that, and more, for me." He dared a smile. "Do you know what principle the original S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded upon?"

He watched them, expectantly but they only looked at each other. It was May who finally spoke this one word:

"Protection."

Coulson nodded. "Protection... one word." He looked to see if they understood. "Sometimes, to protect the planet against an alien invasion from another universe, other times," he glanced at Ward, "to protect one man against himself..." He closed the distance between the two of them. "Do you remember when I told you that nobody is a nobody, Grant? When I told you that you can save a man, even from himself, if you get to them early enough?"

"I remember." Ward nodded.

"I'd like to believe that I was wrong. That there is no "IF". That if you try hard enough, it doesn't matter how early or how late you are – you can always save that person. As long as they are alive, there is always hope. S.H.I.E.L.D. was built on good principles," he addressed the whole team again, "but somehow, they got lost along the way. We will build a new, better S.H.I.E.L.D. now. One that doesn't overlook cases like that of Grant Ward, one that would not let John Garrett – my former friend – become the hurt bitter shell of a man. We will look at our mistakes and we will learn from them. I know that I am a leader - a part –- of a team of people who can achieve that. If we stick together."

Coulson hoped he was right. And if he ever wavered, Grant Ward's face would always remind him of the mistakes his predecessors have made.

* * *

t.b.c.


	16. Epilogue 2

**Early Enough  
****Epilogue 2**

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"Do you believe he'll make it?"

"What do you mean?" Grant glanced up at Skye. He was doing the inventory of the ammo on the Bus's lower level, writing the numbers and positions on the notepad, and she came in so quietly he barely heard her. He detected her scent though, lemongrass and sweat, so she didn't startle him. She looked different somehow.

"Coulson," she clarified, tracing a speck of dust on the shelf. "Do you think he can build a better S.H.I.E.L.D. A Hydra-less S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

Grant inhaled and then exhaled slowly. "Skye," he started, "you know I was never loyal..."

"I know." Skye grabbed his forearm and pulled closer. So close their faces were only inches apart. There was such earnest conviction in her face, Grant wondered what he did to deserve it.

He shook his head. "I should have known what they were after, what were their goals, their heritage, but I ignored it, because they helped Garrett stay alive." His voice cracked on the last words. He bowed his head, chin-to-chest, bit his lips through a sudden choking sensation in his throat.

Looked at Skye's thin fingers squeezing his hand.

"You were brainwashed," Skye said. "He didn't use a machine or a fancy device but he brainwashed you all the same. And you broke through it. You did it. All on your own."

"Not on my own." Grant found the courage to look up and meet her eyes again. "I had you. I had a purpose. I loved you," he paused, then braved, "I love you."

"Grant..." Skye sighed and started to pull away. "I don't think it's the right time..."

Grant put the notepad on the shelf and encircled her waist with his arm. "There's never the right time," he replied. "But we've got to start somewhere."

He waited a moment until he saw an acquiescence in her eyes, a minute tilt of her head, tremor of her lips. Then he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers in a soft, uncertain gesture. But then she pulled him closer, he felt her warmth and they kissed for real. For this brief moment everything was right with the world and Grant knew that no matter what happened later, they would always be able to come back to this.

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.end

**A/N:** Thank you very much for reading. If you enjoyed, please, let me know. After all, if you don't, I have no idea if there's any point writing those stories.


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